The Road to Oz by L. Frank BaumIn Which Is Related How Dorothy Gale of Kansas, The Shaggy Man, Button Bright, and Polychrome the Rainbow’s Daughter Met on an Enchanted Road and Followed it All the Way to the Marvelous Land of Oz

The Road to Oz In which is related how Dorothy Gale of Kansas, The Shaggy Man, Button Bright, and Polychrome the Rainbow’s Daughter met on an Enchanted Road and followed it all the way to the Marvelous Land of Oz. by L. Frank Baum “Royal Historian of Oz” Contents –To My Readers– 1. The Way
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The Road to Oz

In which is related how Dorothy Gale of Kansas, The Shaggy Man, Button Bright, and Polychrome the Rainbow’s Daughter met on an
Enchanted Road and followed
it all the way to the
Marvelous Land
of Oz.

by L. Frank Baum
“Royal Historian of Oz”

Contents

–To My Readers–
1. The Way to Butterfield
2. Dorothy Meets Button-Bright
3. A Queer Village
4. King Dox
5. The Rainbow’s Daughter
6. The City of Beasts
7. The Shaggy Man’s Transformation
8. The Musicker
9. Facing the Scoodlers
10. Escaping the Soup-Kettle
11. Johnny Dooit Does It
12. The Deadly Desert Crossed
13. The Truth Pond
14. Tik-Tok and Billina
15. The Emperor’s Tin Castle
16. Visiting the Pumpkin-Field
17. The Royal Chariot Arrives
18. The Emerald City
19. The Shaggy Man’s Welcome
20. Princess Ozma of Oz
21. Dorothy Receives the Guests
22. Important Arrivals
23. The Grand Banquet
24. The Birthday Celebration

To My Readers

Well, my dears, here is what you have asked for: another “Oz Book” about Dorothy’s strange adventures. Toto is in this story, because you wanted him to be there, and many other characters which you will recognize are in the story, too. Indeed, the wishes of my little correspondents have been considered as carefully as possible, and if the story is not exactly as you would have written it yourselves, you must remember that a story has to be a story before it can be written down, and the writer cannot change it much without spoiling it.

In the preface to “Dorothy and the Wizard of Oz” I said I would like to write some stories that were not “Oz” stories, because I thought I had written about Oz long enough; but since that volume was published I have been fairly deluged with letters from children imploring me to “write more about Dorothy,” and “more about Oz,” and since I write only to please the children I shall try to respect their wishes.

There are some new characters in this book that ought to win your live. I’m very fond of the shaggy man myself, and I think you will like him, too. As for Polychrome–the Rainbow’s Daughter–and stupid little Button-Bright, they seem to have brought a new element of fun into these Oz stories, and I am glad I discovered them. Yet I am anxious to have you write and tell me how you like them.

Since this book was written I have received some very remarkable News from The Land of Oz, which has greatly astonished me. I believe it will astonish you, too, my dears, when you hear it. But it is such a long and exciting story that it must be saved for another book–and perhaps that book will be the last story that will ever be told about the Land of Oz.

L. FRANK BAUM

Coronado, 1909.

1. The Way to Butterfield

“Please, miss,” said the shaggy man, “can you tell me the road to Butterfield?”

Dorothy looked him over. Yes, he was shaggy, all right, but there was a twinkle in his eye that seemed pleasant.

“Oh yes,” she replied; “I can tell you. But it isn’t this road at all.”

“No?”

“You cross the ten-acre lot, follow the lane to the highway, go north to the five branches, and take–let me see–“

“To be sure, miss; see as far as Butterfield, if you like,” said the shaggy man.

“You take the branch next the willow stump, I b’lieve; or else the branch by the gopher holes; or else–“

“Won’t any of ’em do, miss?”

“‘Course not, Shaggy Man. You must take the right road to get to Butterfield.”

“And is that the one by the gopher stump, or–“

“Dear me!” cried Dorothy. “I shall have to show you the way, you’re so stupid. Wait a minute till I run in the house and get my sunbonnet.”

The shaggy man waited. He had an oat-straw in his mouth, which he chewed slowly as if it tasted good; but it didn’t. There was an apple-tree beside the house, and some apples had fallen to the ground. The shaggy man thought they would taste better than the oat-straw, so he walked over to get some. A little black dog with bright brown eyes dashed out of the farm-house and ran madly toward the shaggy man, who had already picked up three apples and put them in one of the big wide pockets of his shaggy coat. The little dog barked and made a dive for the shaggy man’s leg; but he grabbed the dog by the neck and put it in his big pocket along with the apples. He took more apples, afterward, for many were on the ground; and each one that he tossed into his pocket hit the little dog somewhere upon the head or back, and made him growl. The little dog’s name was Toto, and he was sorry he had been put in the shaggy man’s pocket.

Pretty soon Dorothy came out of the house with her sunbonnet, and she called out:

“Come on, Shaggy Man, if you want me to show you the road to Butterfield.” She climbed the fence into the ten-acre lot and he followed her, walking slowly and stumbling over the little hillocks in the pasture as if he was thinking of something else and did not notice them.

“My, but you’re clumsy!” said the little girl. “Are your feet tired?”

“No, miss; it’s my whiskers; they tire very easily in this warm weather,” said he. “I wish it would snow, don’t you?”

“‘Course not, Shaggy Man,” replied Dorothy, giving him a severe look. “If it snowed in August it would spoil the corn and the oats and the wheat; and then Uncle Henry wouldn’t have any crops; and that would make him poor; and–“

“Never mind,” said the shaggy man. “It won’t snow, I guess. Is this the lane?”

“Yes,” replied Dorothy, climbing another fence; “I’ll go as far as the highway with you.”

“Thankee, miss; you’re very kind for your size, I’m sure,” said he gratefully.

“It isn’t everyone who knows the road to Butterfield,” Dorothy remarked as she tripped along the lane; “but I’ve driven there many a time with Uncle Henry, and so I b’lieve I could find it blindfolded.”

“Don’t do that, miss,” said the shaggy man earnestly; “you might make a mistake.”

“I won’t,” she answered, laughing. “Here’s the highway. Now it’s the second–no, the third turn to the left–or else it’s the fourth. Let’s see. The first one is by the elm tree, and the second is by the gopher holes; and then–“

“Then what?” he inquired, putting his hands in his coat pockets. Toto grabbed a finger and bit it; the shaggy man took his hand out of that pocket quickly, and said “Oh!”

Dorothy did not notice. She was shading her eyes from the sun with her arm, looking anxiously down the road.

“Come on,” she commanded. “It’s only a little way farther, so I may as well show you.”

After a while, they came to the place where five roads branched in different directions; Dorothy pointed to one, and said:

“That’s it, Shaggy Man.”

“I’m much obliged, miss,” he said, and started along another road.

“Not that one!” she cried; “you’re going wrong.”

He stopped.

“I thought you said that other was the road to Butterfield,” said he, running his fingers through his shaggy whiskers in a puzzled way.

“So it is.”

“But I don’t want to go to Butterfield, miss.”

“You don’t?”

“Of course not. I wanted you to show me the road, so I shouldn’t go there by mistake.”

“Oh! Where DO you want to go, then?”

“I’m not particular, miss.”

This answer astonished the little girl; and it made her provoked, too, to think she had taken all this trouble for nothing.

“There are a good many roads here,” observed the shaggy man, turning slowly around, like a human windmill. “Seems to me a person could go ‘most anywhere, from this place.”

Dorothy turned around too, and gazed in surprise. There WERE a good many roads; more than she had ever seen before. She tried to count them, knowing there ought to be five, but when she had counted seventeen she grew bewildered and stopped, for the roads were as many as the spokes of a wheel and ran in every direction from the place where they stood; so if she kept on counting she was likely to count some of the roads twice.

“Dear me!” she exclaimed. “There used to be only five roads, highway and all. And now–why, where’s the highway, Shaggy Man?”

“Can’t say, miss,” he responded, sitting down upon the ground as if tired with standing. “Wasn’t it here a minute ago?”

“I thought so,” she answered, greatly perplexed. “And I saw the gopher holes, too, and the dead stump; but they’re not here now. These roads are all strange–and what a lot of them there are! Where do you suppose they all go to?”

“Roads,” observed the shaggy man, “don’t go anywhere. They stay in one place, so folks can walk on them.”

He put his hand in his side-pocket and drew out an apple–quick, before Toto could bite him again. The little dog got his head out this time and said “Bow-wow!” so loudly that it made Dorothy jump.

“O, Toto!” she cried; “where did you come from?”

“I brought him along,” said the shaggy man.

“What for?” she asked.

“To guard these apples in my pocket, miss, so no one would steal them.”

With one hand the shaggy man held the apple, which he began eating, while with the other hand he pulled Toto out of his pocket and dropped him to the ground. Of course Toto made for Dorothy at once, barking joyfully at his release from the dark pocket. When the child had patted his head lovingly, he sat down before her, his red tongue hanging out one side of his mouth, and looked up into her face with his bright brown eyes, as if asking her what they should do next.

Dorothy didn’t know. She looked around her anxiously for some familiar landmark; but everything was strange. Between the branches of the many roads were green meadows and a few shrubs and trees, but she couldn’t see anywhere the farm-house from which she had just come, or anything she had ever seen before–except the shaggy man and Toto. Besides this, she had turned around and around so many times trying to find out where she was, that now she couldn’t even tell which direction the farm-house ought to be in; and this began to worry her and make her feel anxious.

“I’m ‘fraid, Shaggy Man,” she said, with a sigh, “that we’re lost!”

“That’s nothing to be afraid of,” he replied, throwing away the core of his apple and beginning to eat another one. “Each of these roads must lead somewhere, or it wouldn’t be here. So what does it matter?”

“I want to go home again,” she said.

“Well, why don’t you?” said he.

“I don’t know which road to take.”

“That is too bad,” he said, shaking his shaggy head gravely. “I wish I could help you; but I can’t. I’m a stranger in these parts.”

“Seems as if I were, too,” she said, sitting down beside him. “It’s funny. A few minutes ago I was home, and I just came to show you the way to Butterfield–“

“So I shouldn’t make a mistake and go there–“

“And now I’m lost myself and don’t know how to get home!”

“Have an apple,” suggested the shaggy man, handing her one with pretty red cheeks.

“I’m not hungry,” said Dorothy, pushing it away.

“But you may be, to-morrow; then you’ll be sorry you didn’t eat the apple,” said he.

“If I am, I’ll eat the apple then,” promised Dorothy.

“Perhaps there won’t be any apple then,” he returned, beginning to eat the red-cheeked one himself. “Dogs sometimes can find their way home better than people,” he went on; “perhaps your dog can lead you back to the farm.”

“Will you, Toto?” asked Dorothy.

Toto wagged his tail vigorously.

“All right,” said the girl; “let’s go home.”

Toto looked around a minute and dashed up one of the roads.

“Good-bye, Shaggy Man,” called Dorothy, and ran after Toto. The little dog pranced briskly along for some distance; when he turned around and looked at his mistress questioningly.

“Oh, don’t ‘spect ME to tell you anything; I don’t know the way,” she said. “You’ll have to find it yourself.”

But Toto couldn’t. He wagged his tail, and sneezed, and shook his ears, and trotted back where they had left the shaggy man. From here he started along another road; then came back and tried another; but each time he found the way strange and decided it would not take them to the farm-house. Finally, when Dorothy had begun to tire with chasing after him, Toto sat down panting beside the shaggy man and gave up.

Dorothy sat down, too, very thoughtful. The little girl had encountered some queer adventures since she came to live at the farm; but this was the queerest of them all. To get lost in fifteen minutes, so near to her home and in the unromantic State of Kansas, was an experience that fairly bewildered her.

“Will your folks worry?” asked the shaggy man, his eyes twinkling in a pleasant way.

“I s’pose so,” answered Dorothy with a sigh. “Uncle Henry says there’s ALWAYS something happening to me; but I’ve always come home safe at the last. So perhaps he’ll take comfort and think I’ll come home safe this time.”

“I’m sure you will,” said the shaggy man, smilingly nodding at her. “Good little girls never come to any harm, you know. For my part, I’m good, too; so nothing ever hurts me.”

Dorothy looked at him curiously. His clothes were shaggy, his boots were shaggy and full of holes, and his hair and whiskers were shaggy. But his smile was sweet and his eyes were kind.

“Why didn’t you want to go to Butterfield?” she asked.

“Because a man lives there who owes me fifteen cents, and if I went to Butterfield and he saw me he’d want to pay me the money. I don’t want money, my dear.”

“Why not?” she inquired.

“Money,” declared the shaggy man, “makes people proud and haughty. I don’t want to be proud and haughty. All I want is to have people love me; and as long as I own the Love Magnet, everyone I meet is sure to love me dearly.”

“The Love Magnet! Why, what’s that?”

“I’ll show you, if you won’t tell any one,” he answered, in a low, mysterious voice.

“There isn’t any one to tell, ‘cept Toto,” said the girl.

The shaggy man searched in one pocket, carefully; and in another pocket; and in a third. At last he drew out a small parcel wrapped in crumpled paper and tied with a cotton string. He unwound the string, opened the parcel, and took out a bit of metal shaped like a horseshoe. It was dull and brown, and not very pretty.

“This, my dear,” said he, impressively, “is the wonderful Love Magnet. It was given me by an Eskimo in the Sandwich Islands–where there are no sandwiches at all–and as long as I carry it every living thing I meet will love me dearly.”

“Why didn’t the Eskimo keep it?” she asked, looking at the Magnet with interest.

“He got tired of being loved and longed for some one to hate him. So he gave me the Magnet and the very next day a grizzly bear ate him.”

“Wasn’t he sorry then?” she inquired.

“He didn’t say,” replied the shaggy man, wrapping and tying the Love Magnet with great care and putting it away in another pocket. “But the bear didn’t seem sorry a bit,” he added.

“Did you know the bear?” asked Dorothy.

“Yes; we used to play ball together in the Caviar Islands. The bear loved me because I had the Love Magnet. I couldn’t blame him for eating the Eskimo, because it was his nature to do so.”

“Once,” said Dorothy, “I knew a Hungry Tiger who longed to eat fat babies, because it was his nature to; but he never ate any because he had a Conscience.”

“This bear,” replied the shaggy man, with a sigh, “had no Conscience, you see.”

The shaggy man sat silent for several minutes, apparently considering the cases of the bear and the tiger, while Toto watched him with an air of great interest. The little dog was doubtless thinking of his ride in the shaggy man’s pocket and planning to keep out of reach in the future.

At last the shaggy man turned and inquired, “What’s your name, little girl?”

“My name’s Dorothy,” said she, jumping up again, “but what are we going to do? We can’t stay here forever, you know.”

“Let’s take the seventh road,” he suggested. “Seven is a lucky number for little girls named Dorothy.”

“The seventh from where?”

“From where you begin to count.”

So she counted seven roads, and the seventh looked just like all the others; but the shaggy man got up from the ground where he had been sitting and started down this road as if sure it was the best way to go; and Dorothy and Toto followed him.

2. Dorothy Meets Button-Bright

The seventh road was a good road, and curved this way and that– winding through green meadows and fields covered with daisies and buttercups and past groups of shady trees. There were no houses of any sort to be seen, and for some distance they met with no living creature at all.

Dorothy began to fear they were getting a good way from the farm-house, since here everything was strange to her; but it would do no good at all to go back where the other roads all met, because the next one they chose might lead her just as far from home.

She kept on beside the shaggy man, who whistled cheerful tunes to beguile the journey, until by and by they followed a turn in the road and saw before them a big chestnut tree making a shady spot over the highway. In the shade sat a little boy dressed in sailor clothes, who was digging a hole in the earth with a bit of wood. He must have been digging some time, because the hole was already big enough to drop a football into.

Dorothy and Toto and the shaggy man came to a halt before the little boy, who kept on digging in a sober and persistent fashion.

“Who are you?” asked the girl.

He looked up at her calmly. His face was round and chubby and his eyes were big, blue and earnest.

“I’m Button-Bright,” said he.

“But what’s your real name?” she inquired.

“Button-Bright.”

“That isn’t a really-truly name!” she exclaimed.

“Isn’t it?” he asked, still digging.

“‘Course not. It’s just a–a thing to call you by. You must have a name.”

“Must I?”

“To be sure. What does your mama call you?”

He paused in his digging and tried to think.

“Papa always said I was bright as a button; so mama always called me Button-Bright,” he said.

“What is your papa’s name?”

“Just Papa.”

“What else?”

“Don’t know.”

“Never mind,” said the shaggy man, smiling. “We’ll call the boy Button-Bright, as his mama does. That name is as good as any, and better than some.”

Dorothy watched the boy dig.

“Where do you live?” she asked.

“Don’t know,” was the reply.

“How did you come here?”

“Don’t know,” he said again.

“Don’t you know where you came from?”

“No,” said he.

“Why, he must be lost,” she said to the shaggy man. She turned to the boy once more.

“What are you going to do?” she inquired.

“Dig,” said he.

“But you can’t dig forever; and what are you going to do then?” she persisted.

“Don’t know,” said the boy.

“But you MUST know SOMETHING,” declared Dorothy, getting provoked.

“Must I?” he asked, looking up in surprise.

“Of course you must.”

“What must I know?”

“What’s going to become of you, for one thing,” she answered.

“Do YOU know what’s going to become of me?” he asked.

“Not–not ‘zactly,” she admitted.

“Do you know what’s going to become of YOU?” he continued, earnestly.

“I can’t say I do,” replied Dorothy, remembering her present difficulties.

The shaggy man laughed.

“No one knows everything, Dorothy,” he said.

“But Button-Bright doesn’t seem to know ANYthing,” she declared. “Do you, Button-Bright?”

He shook his head, which had pretty curls all over it, and replied with perfect calmness:

“Don’t know.”

Never before had Dorothy met with anyone who could give her so little information. The boy was evidently lost, and his people would be sure to worry about him. He seemed two or three years younger than Dorothy, and was prettily dressed, as if someone loved him dearly and took much pains to make him look well. How, then, did he come to be in this lonely road? she wondered.

Near Button-Bright, on the ground, lay a sailor hat with a gilt anchor on the band. His sailor trousers were long and wide at the bottom, and the broad collar of his blouse had gold anchors sewed on its corners. The boy was still digging at his hole.

“Have you ever been to sea?” asked Dorothy.

“To see what?” answered Button-Bright.

“I mean, have you ever been where there’s water?”

“Yes,” said Button-Bright; “there’s a well in our back yard.”

“You don’t understand,” cried Dorothy. “I mean, have you ever been on a big ship floating on a big ocean?”

“Don’t know,” said he.

“Then why do you wear sailor clothes?”

“Don’t know,” he answered, again.

Dorothy was in despair.

“You’re just AWFUL stupid, Button-Bright,” she said.

“Am I?” he asked.

“Yes, you are.”

“Why?” looking up at her with big eyes.

She was going to say: “Don’t know,” but stopped herself in time.

“That’s for you to answer,” she replied.

“It’s no use asking Button-Bright questions,” said the shaggy man, who had been eating another apple; “but someone ought to take care of the poor little chap, don’t you think? So he’d better come along with us.”

Toto had been looking with great curiosity in the hole which the boy was digging, and growing more and more excited every minute, perhaps thinking that Button-Bright was after some wild animal. The little dog began barking loudly and jumped into the hole himself, where he began to dig with his tiny paws, making the earth fly in all directions. It spattered over the boy. Dorothy seized him and raised him to his feet, brushing his clothes with her hand.

“Stop that, Toto!” she called. “There aren’t any mice or woodchucks in that hole, so don’t be foolish.”

Toto stopped, sniffed at the hole suspiciously, and jumped out of it, wagging his tail as if he had done something important.

“Well,” said the shaggy man, “let’s start on, or we won’t get anywhere before night comes.”

“Where do you expect to get to?” asked Dorothy.

“I’m like Button-Bright. I don’t know,” answered the shaggy man, with a laugh. “But I’ve learned from long experience that every road leads somewhere, or there wouldn’t be any road; so it’s likely that if we travel long enough, my dear, we will come to some place or another in the end. What place it will be we can’t even guess at this moment, but we’re sure to find out when we get there.”

“Why, yes,” said Dorothy; “that seems reas’n’ble, Shaggy Man.”

3. A Queer Village

Button-Bright took the shaggy man’s hand willingly; for the shaggy man had the Love Magnet, you know, which was the reason Button-Bright had loved him at once. They started on, with Dorothy on one side, and Toto on the other, the little party trudging along more cheerfully than you might have supposed. The girl was getting used to queer adventures, which interested her very much. Wherever Dorothy went Toto was sure to go, like Mary’s little lamb. Button-Bright didn’t seem a bit afraid or worried because he was lost, and the shaggy man had no home, perhaps, and was as happy in one place as in another.

Before long they saw ahead of them a fine big arch spanning the road, and when they came nearer they found that the arch was beautifully carved and decorated with rich colors. A row of peacocks with spread tails ran along the top of it, and all the feathers were gorgeously painted. In the center was a large fox’s head, and the fox wore a shrewd and knowing expression and had large spectacles over its eyes and a small golden crown with shiny points on top of its head.

While the travelers were looking with curiosity at this beautiful arch there suddenly marched out of it a company of soldiers–only the soldiers were all foxes dressed in uniforms. They wore green jackets and yellow pantaloons, and their little round caps and their high boots were a bright red color. Also, there was a big red bow tied about the middle of each long, bushy tail. Each soldier was armed with a wooden sword having an edge of sharp teeth set in a row, and the sight of these teeth at first caused Dorothy to shudder.

A captain marched in front of the company of fox-soldiers, his uniform embroidered with gold braid to make it handsomer than the others.

Almost before our friends realized it the soldiers had surrounded them on all sides, and the captain was calling out in a harsh voice:

“Surrender! You are our prisoners.”

“What’s a pris’ner?” asked Button-Bright.

“A prisoner is a captive,” replied the fox-captain, strutting up and down with much dignity.

“What’s a captive?” asked Button-Bright.

“You’re one,” said the captain.

That made the shaggy man laugh

“Good afternoon, captain,” he said, bowing politely to all the foxes and very low to their commander. “I trust you are in good health, and that your families are all well?”

The fox-captain looked at the shaggy man, and his sharp features grew pleasant and smiling.

“We’re pretty well, thank you, Shaggy Man,” said he; and Dorothy knew that the Love Magnet was working and that all the foxes now loved the shaggy man because of it. But Toto didn’t know this, for he began barking angrily and tried to bite the captain’s hairy leg where it showed between his red boots and his yellow pantaloons.

“Stop, Toto!” cried the little girl, seizing the dog in her arms. “These are our friends.”

“Why, so we are!” remarked the captain in tones of astonishment. “I thought at first we were enemies, but it seems you are friends instead. You must come with me to see King Dox.”

“Who’s he?” asked Button-Bright, with earnest eyes.

“King Dox of Foxville; the great and wise sovereign who rules over our community.”

“What’s sov’rin, and what’s c’u’nity?” inquired Button-Bright.

“Don’t ask so many questions, little boy.”

“Why?”

“Ah, why indeed?” exclaimed the captain, looking at Button-Bright admiringly. “If you don’t ask questions you will learn nothing. True enough. I was wrong. You’re a very clever little boy, come to think of it–very clever indeed. But now, friends, please come with me, for it is my duty to escort you at once to the royal palace.”

The soldiers marched back through the arch again, and with them marched the shaggy man, Dorothy, Toto, and Button-Bright. Once through the opening they found a fine, big city spread out before them, all the houses of carved marble in beautiful colors. The decorations were mostly birds and other fowl, such as peacocks, pheasants, turkeys, prairie-chickens, ducks, and geese. Over each doorway was carved a head representing the fox who lived in that house, this effect being quite pretty and unusual.

As our friends marched along, some of the foxes came out on the porches and balconies to get a view of the strangers. These foxes were all handsomely dressed, the girl-foxes and women-foxes wearing gowns of feathers woven together effectively and colored in bright hues which Dorothy thought were quite artistic and decidedly attractive.

Button-Bright stared until his eyes were big and round, and he would have stumbled and fallen more than once had not the shaggy man grasped his hand tightly. They were all interested, and Toto was so excited he wanted to bark every minute and to chase and fight every fox he caught sight of; but Dorothy held his little wiggling body fast in her arms and commanded him to be good and behave himself. So he finally quieted down, like a wise doggy, deciding there were too many foxes in Foxville to fight at one time.

By-and-by they came to a big square, and in the center of the square stood the royal palace. Dorothy knew it at once because it had over its great door the carved head of a fox just like the one she had seen on the arch, and this fox was the only one who wore a golden crown.

There were many fox-soldiers guarding the door, but they bowed to the captain and admitted him without question. The captain led them through many rooms, where richly dressed foxes were sitting on beautiful chairs or sipping tea, which was being passed around by fox-servants in white aprons. They came to a big doorway covered with heavy curtains of cloth of gold.

Beside this doorway stood a huge drum. The fox-captain went to this drum and knocked his knees against it– first one knee and then the other–so that the drum said: “Boom-boom.”

“You must all do exactly what I do,” ordered the captain; so the shaggy man pounded the drum with his knees, and so did Dorothy and so did Button-Bright. The boy wanted to keep on pounding it with his little fat knees, because he liked the sound of it; but the captain stopped him. Toto couldn’t pound the drum with his knees and he didn’t know enough to wag his tail against it, so Dorothy pounded the drum for him and that made him bark, and when the little dog barked the fox-captain scowled.

The golden curtains drew back far enough to make an opening, through which marched the captain with the others.

The broad, long room they entered was decorated in gold with stained-glass windows of splendid colors. In the corner of the room upon a richly carved golden throne, sat the fox-king, surrounded by a group of other foxes, all of whom wore great spectacles over their eyes, making them look solemn and important.

Dorothy knew the King at once, because she had seen his head carved on the arch and over the doorway of the palace. Having met with several other kings in her travels, she knew what to do, and at once made a low bow before the throne. The shaggy man bowed, too, and Button-Bright bobbed his head and said “Hello.”

“Most wise and noble Potentate of Foxville,” said the captain, addressing the King in a pompous voice, “I humbly beg to report that I found these strangers on the road leading to your Foxy Majesty’s dominions, and have therefore brought them before you, as is my duty.”

“So–so,” said the King, looking at them keenly. “What brought you here, strangers?”

“Our legs, may it please your Royal Hairiness,” replied the shaggy man.

“What is your business here?” was the next question.

“To get away as soon as possible,” said the shaggy man.

The King didn’t know about the Magnet, of course; but it made him love the shaggy man at once.

“Do just as you please about going away,” he said; “but I’d like to show you the sights of my city and to entertain your party while you are here. We feel highly honored to have little Dorothy with us, I assure you, and we appreciate her kindness in making us a visit. For whatever country Dorothy visits is sure to become famous.”

This speech greatly surprised the little girl, who asked:

“How did your Majesty know my name?”

“Why, everybody knows you, my dear,” said the Fox-King. “Don’t you realize that? You are quite an important personage since Princess Ozma of Oz made you her friend.”

“Do you know Ozma?” she asked, wondering.

“I regret to say that I do not,” he answered, sadly; “but I hope to meet her soon. You know the Princess Ozma is to celebrate her birthday on the twenty-first of this month.”

“Is she?” said Dorothy. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yes; it is to be the most brilliant royal ceremony ever held in any city in Fairyland, and I hope you will try to get me an invitation.”

Dorothy thought a moment.

“I’m sure Ozma would invite you if I asked her,” she said; “but how could you get to the Land of Oz and the Emerald City? It’s a good way from Kansas.”

“Kansas!” he exclaimed, surprised.

“Why, yes; we are in Kansas now, aren’t we?” she returned.

“What a queer notion!” cried the Fox-King, beginning to laugh. “Whatever made you think this is Kansas?”

“I left Uncle Henry’s farm only about two hours ago; that’s the reason,” she said, rather perplexed.

“But, tell me, my dear, did you ever see so wonderful a city as Foxville in Kansas?” he questioned.

“No, your Majesty.”

“And haven’t you traveled from Oz to Kansas in less than half a jiffy, by means of the Silver Shoes and the Magic Belt?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” she acknowledged.

“Then why do you wonder that an hour or two could bring you to Foxville, which is nearer to Oz than it is to Kansas?”

“Dear me!” exclaimed Dorothy; “is this another fairy adventure?”

“It seems to be,” said the Fox-King, smiling.

Dorothy turned to the shaggy man, and her face was grave and reproachful.

“Are you a magician? or a fairy in disguise?” she asked. “Did you enchant me when you asked the way to Butterfield?”

The shaggy man shook his head.

“Who ever heard of a shaggy fairy?” he replied. “No, Dorothy, my dear; I’m not to blame for this journey in any way, I assure you. There’s been something strange about me ever since I owned the Love Magnet; but I don’t know what it is any more than you do. I didn’t try to get you away from home, at all. If you want to find your way back to the farm I’ll go with you willingly, and do my best to help you.”

“Never mind,” said the little girl, thoughtfully. “There isn’t so much to see in Kansas as there is here, and I guess Aunt Em won’t be VERY much worried; that is, if I don’t stay away too long.”

“That’s right,” declared the Fox-King, nodding approval. “Be contented with your lot, whatever it happens to be, if you are wise. Which reminds me that you have a new companion on this adventure–he looks very clever and bright.”

“He is,” said Dorothy; and the shaggy man added:

“That’s his name, your Royal Foxiness–Button-Bright.”

4. King Dox

It was amusing to note the expression on the face of King Dox as he looked the boy over, from his sailor hat to his stubby shoes, and it was equally diverting to watch Button-Bright stare at the King in return. No fox ever beheld a fresher, fairer child’s face, and no child had ever before heard a fox talk, or met with one who dressed so handsomely and ruled so big a city. I am sorry to say that no one had ever told the little boy much about fairies of any kind; this being the case, it is easy to understand how much this strange experience startled and astonished him.

“How do you like us?” asked the King.

“Don’t know,” said Button-Bright.

“Of course you don’t. It’s too short an acquaintance,” returned his Majesty. “What do you suppose my name is?”

“Don’t know,” said Button-Bright.

“How should you? Well, I’ll tell you. My private name is Dox, but a King can’t be called by his private name; he has to take one that is official. Therefore my official name is King Renard the Fourth. Ren-ard with the accent on the ‘Ren’.”

“What’s ‘ren’?” asked Button-Bright.

“How clever!” exclaimed the King, turning a pleased face toward his counselors. “This boy is indeed remarkably bright. ‘What’s ‘ren’?’ he asks; and of course ‘ren’ is nothing at all, all by itself. Yes, he’s very bright indeed.”

“That question is what your Majesty might call foxy,” said one of the counselors, an old grey fox.

“So it is,” declared the King. Turning again to Button-Bright, he asked:

“Having told you my name, what would you call me?”

“King Dox,” said the boy.

“Why?”

“‘Cause ‘ren”s nothing at all,” was the reply.

“Good! Very good indeed! You certainly have a brilliant mind. Do you know why two and two make four?”

“No,” said Button-Bright.

“Clever! clever indeed! Of course you don’t know. Nobody knows why; we only know it’s so, and can’t tell why it’s so. Button-Bright, those curls and blue eyes do not go well with so much wisdom. They make you look too youthful, and hide your real cleverness. Therefore, I will do you a great favor. I will confer upon you the head of a fox, so that you may hereafter look as bright as you really are.”

As he spoke the King waved his paw toward the boy, and at once the pretty curls and fresh round face and big blue eyes were gone, while in their place a fox’s head appeared upon Button-Bright’s shoulders–a hairy head with a sharp nose, pointed ears, and keen little eyes.

“Oh, don’t do that!” cried Dorothy, shrinking back from her transformed companion with a shocked and dismayed face.

“Too late, my dear; it’s done. But you also shall have a fox’s head if you can prove you’re as clever as Button-Bright.”

“I don’t want it; it’s dreadful!” she exclaimed; and, hearing this verdict, Button-Bright began to boo-hoo just as if he were still a little boy.

“How can you call that lovely head dreadful?” asked the King. “It’s a much prettier face than he had before, to my notion, and my wife says I’m a good judge of beauty. Don’t cry, little fox-boy. Laugh and be proud, because you are so highly favored. How do you like the new head, Button-Bright?”

“D-d-don’t n-n-n-know!” sobbed the child.

“Please, PLEASE change him back again, your Majesty!” begged Dorothy.

King Renard IV shook his head.

“I can’t do that,” he said; “I haven’t the power, even if I wanted to. No, Button-Bright must wear his fox head, and he’ll be sure to love it dearly as soon as he gets used to it.”

Both the shaggy man and Dorothy looked grave and anxious, for they were sorrowful that such a misfortune had overtaken their little companion. Toto barked at the fox-boy once or twice, not realizing it was his former friend who now wore the animal head; but Dorothy cuffed the dog and made him stop. As for the foxes, they all seemed to think Button-Bright’s new head very becoming and that their King had conferred a great honor on this little stranger. It was funny to see the boy reach up to feel of his sharp nose and wide mouth, and wail afresh with grief. He wagged his ears in a comical manner and tears were in his little black eyes. But Dorothy couldn’t laugh at her friend just yet, because she felt so sorry.

Just then three little fox-princesses, daughters of the King, entered the room, and when they saw Button-Bright one exclaimed: “How lovely he is!” and the next one cried in delight: “How sweet he is!” and the third princess clapped her hands with pleasure and said, “How beautiful he is!”

Button-Bright stopped crying and asked timidly:

“Am I?”

“In all the world there is not another face so pretty,” declared the biggest fox-princess.

“You must live with us always, and be our brother,” said the next.

“We shall all love you dearly,” the third said.

This praise did much to comfort the boy, and he looked around and tried to smile. It was a pitiful attempt, because the fox face was new and stiff, and Dorothy thought his expression more stupid than before the transformation.

“I think we ought to be going now,” said the shaggy man, uneasily, for he didn’t know what the King might take into his head to do next.

“Don’t leave us yet, I beg of you,” pleaded King Renard. “I intend to have several days of feasting and merry-making in honor of your visit.”

“Have it after we’re gone, for we can’t wait,” said Dorothy, decidedly. But seeing this displeased the King, she added: “If I’m going to get Ozma to invite you to her party I’ll have to find her as soon as poss’ble, you know.”

In spite of all the beauty of Foxville and the gorgeous dresses of its inhabitants, both the girl and the shaggy man felt they were not quite safe there, and would be glad to see the last of it.

“But it is now evening,” the King reminded them, “and you must stay with us until morning, anyhow. Therefore, I invite you to be my guests at dinner, and to attend the theater afterward and sit in the royal box. To-morrow morning, if you really insist upon it, you may resume your journey.”

They consented to this, and some of the fox-servants led them to a suite of lovely rooms in the big palace.

Button-Bright was afraid to be left alone, so Dorothy took him into her own room. While a maid-fox dressed the little girl’s hair–which was a bit tangled–and put some bright, fresh ribbons in it, another maid-fox combed the hair on poor Button-Bright’s face and head and brushed it carefully, tying a pink bow to each of his pointed ears. The maids wanted to dress the children in fine costumes of woven feathers, such as all the foxes wore; but neither of them consented to that.

“A sailor suit and a fox head do not go well together,” said one of the maids, “for no fox was ever a sailor that I can remember.”

“I’m not a fox!” cried Button-Bright.

“Alas, no,” agreed the maid. “But you’ve got a lovely fox head on your skinny shoulders, and that’s ALMOST as good as being a fox.”

The boy, reminded of his misfortune, began to cry again. Dorothy petted and comforted him and promised to find some way to restore him his own head.

“If we can manage to get to Ozma,” she said, “the Princess will change you back to yourself in half a second; so you just wear that fox head as comf’t’bly as you can, dear, and don’t worry about it at all. It isn’t nearly as pretty as your own head, no matter what the foxes say; but you can get along with it for a little while longer, can’t you?”

“Don’t know,” said Button-Bright, doubtfully; but he didn’t cry any more after that.

Dorothy let the maids pin ribbons to her shoulders, after which they were ready for the King’s dinner. When they met the shaggy man in the splendid drawing room of the palace they found him just the same as before. He had refused to give up his shaggy clothes for new ones, because if he did that he would no longer be the shaggy man, he said, and he might have to get acquainted with himself all over again.

He told Dorothy he had brushed his shaggy hair and whiskers; but she thought he must have brushed them the wrong way, for they were quite as shaggy as before.

As for the company of foxes assembled to dine with the strangers, they were most beautifully costumed, and their rich dresses made Dorothy’s simple gown and Button-Bright’s sailor suit and the shaggy man’s shaggy clothes look commonplace. But they treated their guests with great respect and the King’s dinner was a very good dinner indeed. Foxes, as you know, are fond of chicken and other fowl; so they served chicken soup and roasted turkey and stewed duck and fried grouse and broiled quail and goose pie, and as the cooking was excellent the King’s guests enjoyed the meal and ate heartily of the various dishes.

The party went to the theater, where they saw a play acted by foxes dressed in costumes of brilliantly colored feathers. The play was about a fox-girl who was stolen by some wicked wolves and carried to their cave; and just as they were about to kill her and eat her a company of fox-soldiers marched up, saved the girl, and put all the wicked wolves to death.

“How do you like it?” the King asked Dorothy.

“Pretty well,” she answered. “It reminds me of one of Mr. Aesop’s fables.”

“Don’t mention Aesop to me, I beg of you!” exclaimed King Dox. “I hate that man’s name. He wrote a good deal about foxes, but always made them out cruel and wicked, whereas we are gentle and kind, as you may see.”

“But his fables showed you to be wise and clever, and more shrewd than other animals,” said the shaggy man, thoughtfully.

“So we are. There is no question about our knowing more than men do,” replied the King, proudly. “But we employ our wisdom to do good, instead of harm; so that horrid Aesop did not know what he was talking about.”

They did not like to contradict him, because they felt he ought to know the nature of foxes better than men did; so they sat still and watched the play, and Button-Bright became so interested that for the time he forgot he wore a fox head.

Afterward they went back to the palace and slept in soft beds stuffed with feathers; for the foxes raised many fowl for food, and used their feathers for clothing and to sleep upon.

Dorothy wondered why the animals living in Foxville did not wear just their own hairy skins as wild foxes do; when she mentioned it to King Dox he said they clothed themselves because they were civilized.

“But you were born without clothes,” she observed, “and you don’t seem to me to need them.”

“So were human beings born without clothes,” he replied; “and until they became civilized they wore only their natural skins. But to become civilized means to dress as elaborately and prettily as possible, and to make a show of your clothes so your neighbors will envy you, and for that reason both civilized foxes and civilized humans spend most of their time dressing themselves.”

“I don’t,” declared the shaggy man.

“That is true,” said the King, looking at him carefully; “but perhaps you are not civilized.”

After a sound sleep and a good night’s rest they had their breakfast with the King and then bade his Majesty good-bye.

“You’ve been kind to us–‘cept poor Button-Bright,” said Dorothy, “and we’ve had a nice time in Foxville.”

“Then,” said King Dox, “perhaps you’ll be good enough to get me an invitation to Princess Ozma’s birthday celebration.”

“I’ll try,” she promised; “if I see her in time.”

“It’s on the twenty-first, remember,” he continued; “and if you’ll just see that I’m invited I’ll find a way to cross the Dreadful Desert into the marvelous Land of Oz. I’ve always wanted to visit the Emerald City, so I’m sure it was fortunate you arrived here just when you did, you being Princess Ozma’s friend and able to assist me in getting the invitation.”

“If I see Ozma I’ll ask her to invite you,” she replied.

The Fox-King had a delightful luncheon put up for them, which the shaggy man shoved in his pocket, and the fox-captain escorted them to an arch at the side of the village opposite the one by which they had entered. Here they found more soldiers guarding the road.

“Are you afraid of enemies?” asked Dorothy.

“No; because we are watchful and able to protect ourselves,” answered the captain. “But this road leads to another village peopled by big, stupid beasts who might cause us trouble if they thought we were afraid of them.”

“What beasts are they?” asked the shaggy man.

The captain hesitated to answer. Finally, he said:

“You will learn all about them when you arrive at their city. But do not be afraid of them. Button-Bright is so wonderfully clever and has now such an intelligent face that I’m sure he will manage to find a way to protect you.”

This made Dorothy and the shaggy man rather uneasy, for they had not so much confidence in the fox-boy’s wisdom as the captain seemed to have. But as their escort would say no more about the beasts, they bade him good-bye and proceeded on their journey.

5. The Rainbow’s Daughter

Toto, now allowed to run about as he pleased, was glad to be free again and able to bark at the birds and chase the butterflies. The country around them was charming, yet in the pretty fields of wild-flowers and groves of leafy trees were no houses whatever, or sign of any inhabitants. Birds flew through the air and cunning white rabbits darted amongst the tall grasses and green bushes; Dorothy noticed even the ants toiling busily along the roadway, bearing gigantic loads of clover seed; but of people there were none at all.

They walked briskly on for an hour or two, for even little Button-Bright was a good walker and did not tire easily. At length as they turned a curve in the road they beheld just before them a curious sight.

A little girl, radiant and beautiful, shapely as a fairy and exquisitely dressed, was dancing gracefully in the middle of the lonely road, whirling slowly this way and that, her dainty feet twinkling in sprightly fashion. She was clad in flowing, fluffy robes of soft material that reminded Dorothy of woven cobwebs, only it was colored in soft tintings of violet, rose, topaz, olive, azure, and white, mingled together most harmoniously in stripes which melted one into the other with soft blendings. Her hair was like spun gold and flowed around her in a cloud, no strand being fastened or confined by either pin or ornament or ribbon.

Filled with wonder and admiration our friends approached and stood watching this fascinating dance. The girl was no taller than Dorothy, although more slender; nor did she seem any older than our little heroine.

Suddenly she paused and abandoned the dance, as if for the first time observing the presence of strangers. As she faced them, shy as a frightened fawn, poised upon one foot as if to fly the next instant, Dorothy was astonished to see tears flowing from her violet eyes and trickling down her lovely rose-hued cheeks. That the dainty maiden should dance and weep at the same time was indeed surprising; so Dorothy asked in a soft, sympathetic voice:

“Are you unhappy, little girl?”

“Very!” was the reply; “I am lost.”

“Why, so are we,” said Dorothy, smiling; “but we don’t cry about it.”

“Don’t you? Why not?”

“‘Cause I’ve been lost before, and always got found again,” answered Dorothy simply.

“But I’ve never been lost before,” murmured the dainty maiden, “and I’m worried and afraid.”

“You were dancing,” remarked Dorothy, in a puzzled tone of voice.

“Oh, that was just to keep warm,” explained the maiden, quickly. “It was not because I felt happy or gay, I assure you.”

Dorothy looked at her closely. Her gauzy flowing robes might not be very warm, yet the weather wasn’t at all chilly, but rather mild and balmy, like a spring day.

“Who are you, dear?” she asked, gently.

“I’m Polychrome,” was the reply.

“Polly whom?”

“Polychrome. I’m the Daughter of the Rainbow.”

“Oh!” said Dorothy with a gasp; “I didn’t know the Rainbow had children. But I MIGHT have known it, before you spoke. You couldn’t really be anything else.”

“Why not?” inquired Polychrome, as if surprised.

“Because you’re so lovely and sweet.”

The little maiden smiled through her tears, came up to Dorothy, and placed her slender fingers in the Kansas girl’s chubby hand.

“You’ll be my friend–won’t you?” she said, pleadingly.

“Of course.”

“And what is your name?”

“I’m Dorothy; and this is my friend Shaggy Man, who owns the Love Magnet; and this is Button-Bright–only you don’t see him as he really is because the Fox-King carelessly changed his head into a fox head. But the real Button-Bright is good to look at, and I hope to get him changed back to himself, some time.”

The Rainbow’s Daughter nodded cheerfully, no longer afraid of her new companions.

“But who is this?” she asked, pointing to Toto, who was sitting before her wagging his tail in the most friendly manner and admiring the pretty maid with his bright eyes. “Is this, also, some enchanted person?”

“Oh no, Polly–I may call you Polly, mayn’t I? Your whole name’s awful hard to say.”

“Call me Polly if you wish, Dorothy.”

“Well, Polly, Toto’s just a dog; but he has more sense than Button-Bright, to tell the truth; and I’m very fond of him.”

“So am I,” said Polychrome, bending gracefully to pat Toto’s head.

“But how did the Rainbow’s Daughter ever get on this lonely road, and become lost?” asked the shaggy man, who had listened wonderingly to all this.

“Why, my father stretched his rainbow over here this morning, so that one end of it touched this road,” was the reply; “and I was dancing upon the pretty rays, as I love to do, and never noticed I was getting too far over the bend in the circle. Suddenly I began to slide, and I went faster and faster until at last I bumped on the ground, at the very end. Just then father lifted the rainbow again, without noticing me at all, and though I tried to seize the end of it and hold fast, it melted away entirely and I was left alone and helpless on the cold, hard earth!”

“It doesn’t seem cold to me, Polly,” said Dorothy; “but perhaps you’re not warmly dressed.”

“I’m so used to living nearer the sun,” replied the Rainbow’s Daughter, “that at first I feared I would freeze down here. But my dance has warmed me some, and now I wonder how I am ever to get home again.”

“Won’t your father miss you, and look for you, and let down another rainbow for you?”

“Perhaps so, but he’s busy just now because it rains in so many parts of the world at this season, and he has to set his rainbow in a lot of different places. What would you advise me to do, Dorothy?”

“Come with us,” was the answer. “I’m going to try to find my way to the Emerald City, which is in the fairy Land of Oz. The Emerald City is ruled by a friend of mine, the Princess Ozma, and if we can manage to get there I’m sure she will know a way to send you home to your father again.”

“Do you really think so?” asked Polychrome, anxiously.

“I’m pretty sure.”

“Then I’ll go with you,” said the little maid; “for travel will help keep me warm, and father can find me in one part of the world as well as another–if he gets time to look for me.”

“Come along, then,” said the shaggy man, cheerfully; and they started on once more. Polly walked beside Dorothy a while, holding her new friend’s hand as if she feared to let it go; but her nature seemed as light and buoyant as her fleecy robes, for suddenly she darted ahead and whirled round in a giddy dance. Then she tripped back to them with sparkling eyes and smiling cheeks, having regained her usual happy mood and forgotten all her worry about being lost.

They found her a charming companion, and her dancing and laughter– for she laughed at times like the tinkling of a silver bell–did much to enliven their journey and keep them contented.

6. The City Of Beasts

When noon came they opened the Fox-King’s basket of luncheon, and found a nice roasted turkey with cranberry sauce and some slices of bread and butter. As they sat on the grass by the roadside the shaggy man cut up the turkey with his pocket-knife and passed slices of it around.

“Haven’t you any dewdrops, or mist-cakes, or cloudbuns?” asked Polychrome, longingly.

“‘Course not,” replied Dorothy. “We eat solid things, down here on the earth. But there’s a bottle of cold tea. Try some, won’t you?”

The Rainbow’s Daughter watched Button-Bright devour one leg of the turkey.

“Is it good?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Do you think I could eat it?”

“Not this,” said Button-Bright.

“But I mean another piece?”

“Don’t know,” he replied.

“Well, I’m going to try, for I’m very hungry,” she decided, and took a thin slice of the white breast of turkey which the shaggy man cut for her, as well as a bit of bread and butter. When she tasted it Polychrome thought the turkey was good–better even than mist-cakes; but a little satisfied her hunger and she finished with a tiny sip of cold tea.

“That’s about as much as a fly would eat,” said Dorothy, who was making a good meal herself. “But I know some people in Oz who eat nothing at all.”

“Who are they?” inquired the shaggy man.

“One is a scarecrow who’s stuffed with straw, and the other a woodman made out of tin. They haven’t any appetites inside of ’em, you see; so they never eat anything at all.”

“Are they alive?” asked Button-Bright.

“Oh yes,” replied Dorothy; “and they’re very clever and very nice, too. If we get to Oz I’ll introduce them to you.”

“Do you really expect to get to Oz?” inquired the shaggy man, taking a drink of cold tea.

“I don’t know just what to ‘spect,” answered the child, seriously; “but I’ve noticed if I happen to get lost I’m almost sure to come to the Land of Oz in the end, somehow ‘r other; so I may get there this time. But I can’t promise, you know; all I can do is wait and see.”

“Will the Scarecrow scare me?” asked Button-Bright.

“No; ’cause you’re not a crow,” she returned. “He has the loveliest smile you ever saw–only it’s painted on and he can’t help it.”

Luncheon being over they started again upon their journey, the shaggy man, Dorothy and Button-Bright walking soberly along, side by side, and the Rainbow’s Daughter dancing merrily before them.

Sometimes she darted along the road so swiftly that she was nearly out of sight, then she came tripping back to greet them with her silvery laughter. But once she came back more sedately, to say:

“There’s a city a little way off.”

“I ‘spected that,” returned Dorothy; “for the fox-people warned us there was one on this road. It’s filled with stupid beasts of some sort, but we musn’t be afraid of ’em ’cause they won’t hurt us.”

“All right,” said Button-Bright; but Polychrome didn’t know whether it was all right or not.

“It’s a big city,” she said, “and the road runs straight through it.”

“Never mind,” said the shaggy man; “as long as I carry the Love Magnet every living thing will love me, and you may be sure I shan’t allow any of my friends to be harmed in any way.”

This comforted them somewhat, and they moved on again. Pretty soon they came to a signpost that read:

“HAF A MYLE TO DUNKITON.”

“Oh,” said the shaggy man, “if they’re donkeys, we’ve nothing to fear at all.”

“They may kick,” said Dorothy, doubtfully.

“Then we will cut some switches, and make them behave,” he replied. At the first tree he cut himself a long, slender switch from one of the branches, and shorter switches for the others.

“Don’t be afraid to order the beasts around,” he said; “they’re used to it.”

Before long the road brought them to the gates of the city. There was a high wall all around, which had been whitewashed, and the gate just before our travelers was a mere opening in the wall, with no bars across it. No towers or steeples or domes showed above the enclosure, nor was any living thing to be seen as our friends drew near.

Suddenly, as they were about to boldly enter through the opening, there arose a harsh clamor of sound that swelled and echoed on every side, until they were nearly deafened by the racket and had to put their fingers to their ears to keep the noise out.

It was like the firing of many cannon, only there were no cannon-balls or other missiles to be seen; it was like the rolling of mighty thunder, only not a cloud was in the sky; it was like the roar of countless breakers on a rugged seashore, only there was no sea or other water anywhere about.

They hesitated to advance; but, as the noise did no harm, they entered through the whitewashed wall and quickly discovered the cause of the turmoil. Inside were suspended many sheets of tin or thin iron, and against these metal sheets a row of donkeys were pounding their heels with vicious kicks.

The shaggy man ran up to the nearest donkey and gave the beast a sharp blow with his switch.

“Stop that noise!” he shouted; and the donkey stopped kicking the metal sheet and turned its head to look with surprise at the shaggy man. He switched the next donkey, and made him stop, and then the next, so that gradually the rattling of heels ceased and the awful noise subsided. The donkeys stood in a group and eyed the strangers with fear and trembling.

“What do you mean by making such a racket?” asked the shaggy man, sternly.

“We were scaring away the foxes,” said one of the donkeys, meekly. “Usually they run fast enough when they hear the noise, which makes them afraid.”

“There are no foxes here,” said the shaggy man.

“I beg to differ with you. There’s one, anyhow,” replied the donkey, sitting upright on its haunches and waving a hoof toward Button-Bright. “We saw him coming and thought the whole army of foxes was marching to attack us.”

“Button-Bright isn’t a fox,” explained the shaggy man. “He’s only wearing a fox head for a time, until he can get his own head back.”

“Oh, I see,” remarked the donkey, waving its left ear reflectively. “I’m sorry we made such a mistake, and had all our work and worry for nothing.”

The other donkeys by this time were sitting up and examining the strangers with big, glassy eyes. They made a queer picture, indeed; for they wore wide, white collars around their necks and the collars had many scallops and points. The gentlemen-donkeys wore high pointed caps set between their great ears, and the lady-donkeys wore sunbonnets with holes cut in the top for the ears to stick through. But they had no other clothing except their hairy skins, although many wore gold and silver bangles on their front wrists and bands of different metals on their rear ankles. When they were kicking they had braced themselves with their front legs, but now they all stood or sat upright on their hind legs and used the front ones as arms. Having no fingers or hands the beasts were rather clumsy, as you may guess; but Dorothy was surprised to observe how many things they could do with their stiff, heavy hoofs.

Some of the donkeys were white, some were brown, or gray, or black, or spotted; but their hair was sleek and smooth and their broad collars and caps gave them a neat, if whimsical, appearance.

“This is a nice way to welcome visitors, I must say!” remarked the shaggy man, in a reproachful tone.

“Oh, we did not mean to be impolite,” replied a grey donkey which had not spoken before. “But you were not expected, nor did you send in your visiting cards, as it is proper to do.”

“There is some truth in that,” admitted the shaggy man; “but, now you are informed that we are important and distinguished travelers, I trust you will accord us proper consideration.”

These big words delighted the donkeys, and made them bow to the shaggy man with great respect. Said the grey one:

“You shall be taken before his great and glorious Majesty King Kik-a-bray, who will greet you as becomes your exalted stations.”

“That’s right,” answered Dorothy. “Take us to some one who knows something.”

“Oh, we all know something, my child, or we shouldn’t be donkeys,” asserted the grey one, with dignity. “The word ‘donkey’ means ‘clever,’ you know.”

“I didn’t know it,” she replied. “I thought it meant ‘stupid’.”

“Not at all, my child. If you will look in the Encyclopedia Donkaniara you will find I’m correct. But come; I will myself lead you before our splendid, exalted, and most intellectual ruler.”

All donkeys love big words, so it is no wonder the grey one used so many of them.

7. The Shaggy Man’s Transformation

They found the houses of the town all low and square and built of bricks, neatly whitewashed inside and out. The houses were not set in rows, forming regular streets, but placed here and there in a haphazard manner which made it puzzling for a stranger to find his way.

“Stupid people must have streets and numbered houses in their cities, to guide them where to go,” observed the grey donkey, as he walked before the visitors on his hind legs, in an awkward but comical manner; “but clever donkeys know their way about without such absurd marks. Moreover, a mixed city is much prettier than one with straight streets.”

Dorothy did not agree with this, but she said nothing to contradict it. Presently she saw a sign on a house that read: “Madam de Fayke, Hoofist,” and she asked their conductor:

“What’s a ‘hoofist,’ please?”

“One who reads your fortune in your hoofs,” replied the grey donkey.

“Oh, I see,” said the little girl. “You are quite civilized here.”

“Dunkiton,” he replied, “is the center of the world’s highest civilization.”

They came to a house where two youthful donkeys were whitewashing the wall, and Dorothy stopped a moment to watch them. They dipped the ends of their tails, which were much like paint-brushes, into a pail of whitewash, backed up against the house, and wagged their tails right and left until the whitewash was rubbed on the wall, after which they dipped these funny brushes in the pail again and repeated the performance.

“That must be fun,” said Button-Bright.

“No, it’s work,” replied the old donkey; “but we make our youngsters do all the whitewashing, to keep them out of mischief.”

“Don’t they go to school?” asked Dorothy.

“All donkeys are born wise,” was the reply, “so the only school we need is the school of experience. Books are only for those who know nothing, and so are obliged to learn things from other people.”

“In other words, the more stupid one is, the more he thinks he knows,” observed the shaggy man. The grey donkey paid no attention to this speech because he had just stopped before a house which had painted over the doorway a pair of hoofs, with a donkey tail between them and a rude crown and sceptre above.

“I’ll see if his magnificent Majesty King Kik-a-bray is at home,” said he. He lifted his head and called “Whee-haw! whee-haw! whee-haw!” three times, in a shocking voice, turning about and kicking with his heels against the panel of the door. For a time there was no reply; then the door opened far enough to permit a donkey’s head to stick out and look at them.

It was a white head, with big, awful ears and round, solemn eyes.

“Have the foxes gone?” it asked, in a trembling voice.

“They haven’t been here, most stupendous Majesty,” replied the grey one. “The new arrivals prove to be travelers of distinction.”

“Oh,” said the King, in a relieved tone of voice. “Let them come in.”

He opened the door wide, and the party marched into a big room, which, Dorothy thought, looked quite unlike a king’s palace. There were mats of woven grasses on the floor and the place was clean and neat; but his Majesty had no other furniture at all–perhaps because he didn’t need it. He squatted down in the center of the room and a little brown donkey ran and brought a big gold crown which it placed on the monarch’s head, and a golden staff with a jeweled ball at the end of it, which the King held between his front hoofs as he sat upright.

“Now then,” said his Majesty, waving his long ears gently to and fro, “tell me why you are here, and what you expect me to do for you.” He eyed Button-Bright rather sharply, as if afraid of the little boy’s queer head, though it was the shaggy man who undertook to reply.

“Most noble and supreme ruler of Dunkiton,” he said, trying not to laugh in the solemn King’s face, “we are strangers traveling through your dominions and have entered your magnificent city because the road led through it, and there was no way to go around. All we desire is to pay our respects to your Majesty–the cleverest king in all the world, I’m sure–and then to continue on our way.”

This polite speech pleased the King very much; indeed, it pleased him so much that it proved an unlucky speech for the shaggy man. Perhaps the Love Magnet helped to win his Majesty’s affections as well as the flattery, but however this may be, the white donkey looked kindly upon the speaker and said:

“Only a donkey should be able to use such fine, big words, and you are too wise and admirable in all ways to be a mere man. Also, I feel that I love you as well as I do my own favored people, so I will bestow upon you the greatest gift within my power–a donkey’s head.”

As he spoke he waved his jeweled staff. Although the shaggy man cried out and tried to leap backward and escape, it proved of no use. Suddenly his own head was gone and a donkey head appeared in its place–a brown, shaggy head so absurd and droll that Dorothy and Polly both broke into merry laughter, and even Button-Bright’s fox face wore a smile.

“Dear me! dear me!” cried the shaggy man, feeling of his shaggy new head and his long ears. “What a misfortune–what a great misfortune! Give me back my own head, you stupid king–if you love me at all!”

“Don’t you like it?” asked the King, surprised.

“Hee-haw! I hate it! Take it away, quick!” said the shaggy man.

“But I can’t do that,” was the reply. “My magic works only one way. I can DO things, but I can’t UNdo them. You’ll have to find the Truth Pond, and bathe in its water, in order to get back your own head. But I advise you not to do that. This head is much more beautiful than the old one.”

“That’s a matter of taste,” said Dorothy.

“Where is the Truth Pond?” asked the shaggy man, earnestly.

“Somewhere in the Land of Oz; but just the exact location of it I can not tell,” was the answer.

“Don’t worry, Shaggy Man,” said Dorothy, smiling because her friend wagged his new ears so comically. “If the Truth Pond is in Oz, we’ll be sure to find it when we get there.”

“Oh! Are you going to the Land of Oz?” asked King Kik-a-bray.

“I don’t know,” she replied, “but we’ve been told we are nearer the Land of Oz than to Kansas, and if that’s so, the quickest way for me to get home is to find Ozma.”

“Haw-haw! Do you know the mighty Princess Ozma?” asked the King, his tone both surprised and eager.

“‘Course I do; she’s my friend,” said Dorothy.

“Then perhaps you’ll do me a favor,” continued the white donkey, much excited.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Perhaps you can get me an invitation to Princess Ozma’s birthday celebration, which will be the grandest royal function ever held in Fairyland. I’d love to go.”

“Hee-haw! You deserve punishment, rather than reward, for giving me this dreadful head,” said the shaggy man, sorrowfully.

“I wish you wouldn’t say ‘hee-haw’ so much,” Polychrome begged him; “it makes cold chills run down my back.”

“But I can’t help it, my dear; my donkey head wants to bray continually,” he replied. “Doesn’t your fox head want to yelp every minute?” he asked Button-Bright.

“Don’t know,” said the boy, still staring at the shaggy man’s ears. These seemed to interest him greatly, and the sight also made him forget his own fox head, which was a comfort.

“What do you think, Polly? Shall I promise the donkey king an invitation to Ozma’s party?” asked Dorothy of the Rainbow’s Daughter, who was flitting about the room like a sunbeam because she could never keep still.

“Do as you please, dear,” answered Polychrome. “He might help to amuse the guests of the Princess.”

“Then, if you will give us some supper and a place to sleep to-night, and let us get started on our journey early to-morrow morning,” said Dorothy to the King, “I’ll ask Ozma to invite you–if I happen to get to Oz.”

“Good! Hee-haw! Excellent!” cried Kik-a-bray, much pleased. “You shall all have fine suppers and good beds. What food would you prefer, a bran mash or ripe oats in the shell?”

“Neither one,” replied Dorothy, promptly.

“Perhaps plain hay, or some sweet juicy grass would suit you better,” suggested Kik-a-bray, musingly.

“Is that all you have to eat?” asked the girl.

“What more do you desire?”

“Well, you see we’re not donkeys,” she explained, “and so we’re used to other food. The foxes gave us a nice supper in Foxville.”

“We’d like some dewdrops and mist-cakes,” said Polychrome.

“I’d prefer apples and a ham sandwich,” declared the shaggy man, “for although I’ve a donkey head, I still have my own particular stomach.”

“I want pie,” said Button-Bright.

“I think some beefsteak and chocolate layer-cake would taste best,” said Dorothy.

“Hee-haw! I declare!” exclaimed the King. “It seems each one of you wants a different food. How queer all living creatures are, except donkeys!”

“And donkeys like you are queerest of all,” laughed Polychrome.

“Well,” decided the King, “I suppose my Magic Staff will produce the things you crave; if you are lacking in good taste it is not my fault.”

With this, he waved his staff with the jeweled ball, and before them instantly appeared a tea-table, set with linen and pretty dishes, and on the table were the very things each had wished for. Dorothy’s beefsteak was smoking hot, and the shaggy man’s apples were plump and rosy-cheeked. The King had not thought to provide chairs, so they all stood in their places around the table and ate with good appetite, being hungry. The Rainbow’s Daughter found three tiny dewdrops on a crystal plate, and Button-Bright had a big slice of apple pie, which he devoured eagerly.

Afterward the King called the brown donkey, which was his favorite servant, and bade it lead his guests to the vacant house where they were to pass the night. It had only one room and no furniture except beds of clean straw and a few mats of woven grasses; but our travelers were contented with these simple things because they realized it was the best the Donkey-King had to offer them. As soon as it was dark they lay down on the mats and slept comfortably until morning.

At daybreak there was a dreadful noise throughout the city. Every donkey in the place brayed. When he heard this the shaggy man woke up and called out “Hee-haw!” as loud as he could.

“Stop that!” said Button-Bright, in a cross voice. Both Dorothy and Polly looked at the shaggy man reproachfully.

“I couldn’t help it, my dears,” he said, as if ashamed of his bray; “but I’ll try not to do it again.”

Of coursed they forgave him, for as he still had the Love Magnet in his pocket they were all obliged to love him as much as ever.

They did not see the King again, but Kik-a-bray remembered them; for a table appeared again in their room with the same food upon it as on the night before.

“Don’t want pie for breakfus’,” said Button-Bright.

“I’ll give you some of my beefsteak,” proposed Dorothy; “there’s plenty for us all.”

That suited the boy better, but the shaggy man said he was content with his apples and sandwiches, although he ended the meal by eating Button-Bright’s pie. Polly liked her dewdrops and mist-cakes better than any other food, so they all enjoyed an excellent breakfast. Toto had the scraps left from the beefsteak, and he stood up nicely on his hind legs while Dorothy fed them to him.

Breakfast ended, they passed through the village to the side opposite that by which they had entered, the brown servant-donkey guiding them through the maze of scattered houses. There was the road again, leading far away into the unknown country beyond.

“King Kik-a-bray says you must not forget his invitation,” said the brown donkey, as they passed through the opening in the wall.

“I shan’t,” promised Dorothy.

Perhaps no one ever beheld a more strangely assorted group than the one which now walked along the road, through pretty green fields and past groves of feathery pepper-trees and fragrant mimosa. Polychrome, her beautiful gauzy robes floating around her like a rainbow cloud, went first, dancing back and forth and darting now here to pluck a wild-flower or there to watch a beetle crawl across the path. Toto ran after her at times, barking joyously the while, only to become sober again and trot along at Dorothy’s heels. The little Kansas girl walked holding Button-Bright’s hand clasped in her own, and the wee boy with his fox head covered by the sailor hat presented an odd appeaance. Strangest of all, perhaps, was the shaggy man, with his shaggy donkey head, who shuffled along in the rear with his hands thrust deep in his big pockets.

None of the party was really unhappy. All were straying in an unknown land and had suffered more or less annoyance and discomfort; but they realized they were having a fairy adventure in a fairy country, and were much interested in finding out what would happen next.

8. The Musicker

About the middle of the forenoon they began to go up a long hill. By-and-by this hill suddenly dropped down into a pretty valley, where the travelers saw, to their surprise, a small house standing by the road-side.

It was the first house they had seen, and they hastened into the valley to discover who lived there. No one was in sight as they approached, but when they began to get nearer the house they heard queer sounds coming from it. They could not make these out at first, but as they became louder our friends thought they heard a sort of music like that made by a wheezy hand-organ; the music fell upon their ears in this way:

Tiddle-widdle-iddle oom pom-pom!
Oom, pom-pom! oom, pom-pom!
Tiddle-tiddle-tiddle oom pom-pom!
Oom, pom-pom–pah!

“What is it, a band or a mouth-organ?” asked Dorothy.

“Don’t know,” said Button-Bright.

“Sounds to me like a played-out phonograph,” said the shaggy man, lifting his enormous ears to listen.

“Oh, there just COULDN’T be a funnygraf in Fairyland!” cried Dorothy.

“It’s rather pretty, isn’t it?” asked Polychrome, trying to dance to the strains.

Tiddle-widdle-iddle, oom pom-pom,
Oom pom-pom; oom pom-pom!

came the music to their ears, more distinctly as they drew nearer the house. Presently, they saw a little fat man sitting on a bench before the door. He wore a red, braided jacket that reached to his waist, a blue waistcoat, and white trousers with gold stripes down the sides. On his bald head was perched a little, round, red cap held in place by a rubber elastic underneath his chin. His face was round, his eyes a faded blue, and he wore white cotton gloves. The man leaned on a stout gold-headed cane, bending forward on his seat to watch his visitors approach.

Singularly enough, the musical sounds they had heard seemed to come from the inside of the fat man himself; for he was playing no instrument nor was any to be seen near him.

They came up and stood in a row, staring at him, and he stared back while the queer sounds came from him as before:

Tiddle-iddle-iddle, oom pom-pom,
Oom, pom-pom; oom pom-pom!
Tiddle-widdle-iddle, oom pom-pom,
Oom, pom-pom–pah!

Why, he’s a reg’lar musicker!” said Button-Bright.

“What’s a musicker?” asked Dorothy.

“Him!” said the boy.

Hearing this, the fat man sat up a little stiffer than before, as if he had received a compliment, and still came the sounds:

Tiddle-widdle-iddle, oom pom-pom,
Oom pom-pom, oom–

“Stop it!” cried the shaggy man, earnestly. “Stop that dreadful noise.”

The fat man looked at him sadly and began his reply. When he spoke the music changed and the words seemed to accompany the notes. He said–or rather sang:

It isn’t a noise that you hear,
But Music, harmonic and clear.
My breath makes me play
Like an organ, all day–
That bass note is in my left ear.

“How funny!” exclaimed Dorothy; “he says his breath makes the music.”

“That’s all nonsense,” declared the shaggy man; but now the music began again, and they all listened carefully.

My lungs are full of reeds like those In organs, therefore I suppose,
If I breathe in or out my nose,
The reeds are bound to play.

So as I breathe to live, you know,
I squeeze out music as I go;
I’m very sorry this is so–
Forgive my piping, pray!

“Poor man,” said Polychrome; “he can’t help it. What a great misfortune it is!”

“Yes,” replied the shaggy man; “we are only obliged to hear this music a short time, until we leave him and go away; but the poor fellow must listen to himself as long as he lives, and that is enough to drive him crazy. Don’t you think so?”

“Don’t know,” said Button-Bright. Toto said, “Bow-wow!” and the others laughed.

“Perhaps that’s why he lives all alone,” suggested Dorothy.

“Yes; if he had neighbors, they might do him an injury,” responded the shaggy man.

All this while the little fat musicker was breathing the notes:

Tiddle-tiddle-iddle, oom, pom-pom,

and they had to speak loud in order to hear themselves. The shaggy man said:

“Who are you, sir?”

The reply came in the shape of this sing-song:

I’m Allegro da Capo, a very famous man;

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