The Tin Woodman of Oz by L. Frank BaumA Faithful Story of the Astonishing Adventure Undertaken by the Tin Woodman, Assisted by Woot the Wanderer, the Scarecrow of Oz, and Polychrome, the Rainbow’s Daughter

THE TIN WOODMAN OF OZ A Faithful Story of the Astonishing Adventure Undertaken by the Tin Woodman, assisted by Woot the Wanderer, the Scarecrow of Oz, and Polychrome, the Rainbow’s Daughter by L. FRANK BAUM “Royal historian of Oz” This Book is dedicated to the son of my son Frank Alden Baum TO MY READERS
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THE TIN WOODMAN OF OZ

A Faithful Story of the Astonishing Adventure Undertaken by the Tin Woodman, assisted by Woot the Wanderer, the Scarecrow
of Oz, and Polychrome, the
Rainbow’s Daughter

by
L. FRANK BAUM
“Royal historian of Oz”

This Book
is dedicated
to the son of
my son
Frank Alden Baum

TO MY READERS

I know that some of you have been waiting for this story of the Tin Woodman, because many of my correspondents have asked me, time and again what ever became of the “pretty Munchkin girl” whom Nick Chopper was engaged to marry before the Wicked Witch enchanted his axe and he traded his flesh for tin. I, too, have wondered what became of her, but until Woot the Wanderer interested himself in the matter the Tin Woodman knew no more than we did. However, he found her, after many thrilling adventures, as you will discover when you have read this story.

I am delighted at the continued interest of both young and old in the Oz stories. A learned college professor recently wrote me to ask: “For readers of what age are your books intended?” It puzzled me to answer that properly, until I had looked over some of the letters I have received. One says: “I’m a little boy 5 years old, and I Just love your Oz stories. My sister, who is writing this for me, reads me the Oz books, but I wish I could read them myself.” Another letter says: “I’m a great girl 13 years old, so you’ll be surprised when I tell you I am not too old yet for the Oz stories.” Here’s another letter: “Since I was a young girl I’ve never missed getting a Baum book for Christmas. I’m married, now, but am as eager to get and read the Oz stories as ever.” And still another writes: “My good wife and I, both more than 70 years of age, believe that we find more real enjoyment in your Oz books than in any other books we read.” Considering these statements, I wrote the college professor that my books are intended for all those whose hearts are young, no matter what their ages may be.

I think I am justified in promising that there will be some astonishing revelations about The Magic of Oz in my book for 1919. Always your loving and grateful friend,

L. FRANK BAUM.

Royal Historian of Oz.

“OZCOT”
at HOLLYWOOD
in CALIFORNIA

1918.

LIST OF CHAPTERS
1 Woot the Wanderer
2 The Heart of the Tin Woodman
3 Roundabout
4 The Loons of Loonville
5 Mrs. Yoop, the Giantess
6 The Magic of a Yookoohoo
7 The Lace Apron
8 The Menace of the Forest
9 The Quarrelsome Dragons
10 Tommy Kwikstep
11 Jinjur’s Ranch
12 Ozma and Dorothy
13 The Restoration
14 The Green Monkey
15 The Man of Tin
16 Captain Fyter
17 The Workshop of Ku-Klip
18 The Tin Woodman Talks to Himself 19 The Invisible Country
20 Over Night
21 Polychrome’s Magic
22 Nimmie Amee
23 Through the Tunnel
24 The Curtain Falls

Chapter One

Woot the Wanderer

The Tin Woodman sat on his glittering tin throne in the handsome tin hall of his splendid tin castle in the Winkie Country of the Land of Oz. Beside him, in a chair of woven straw, sat his best friend, the Scarecrow of Oz. At times they spoke to one another of curious things they had seen and strange adventures they had known since first they two had met and become comrades. But at times they were silent, for these things had been talked over many times between them, and they found themselves contented in merely being together, speaking now and then a brief sentence to prove they were wide awake and attentive. But then, these two quaint persons never slept. Why should they sleep, when they never tired?

And now, as the brilliant sun sank low over the Winkie Country of Oz, tinting the glistening tin towers and tin minarets of the tin castle with glorious sunset hues, there approached along a winding pathway Woot the Wanderer, who met at the castle entrance a Winkie servant.

The servants of the Tin Woodman all wore tin helmets and tin breastplates and uniforms covered with tiny tin discs sewed closely together on silver cloth, so that their bodies sparkled as beautifully as did the tin castle — and almost as beautifully as did the Tin Woodman himself.

Woot the Wanderer looked at the man servant –all bright and glittering — and at the magnificent castle — all bright and glittering — and as he looked his eyes grew big with wonder. For Woot was not very big and not very old and, wanderer though he was, this proved the most gorgeous sight that had ever met his boyish gaze.

“Who lives here?” he asked.

“The Emperor of the Winkies, who is the famous Tin Woodman of Oz,” replied the servant, who had been trained to treat all strangers with courtesy.

“A Tin Woodman? How queer!” exclaimed the little wanderer.

“Well, perhaps our Emperor is queer,” admitted the servant; “but he is a kind master and as honest and true as good tin can make him; so we, who gladly serve him, are apt to forget that he is not like other people.”

“May I see him?” asked Woot the Wanderer, after a moment’s thought.

“If it please you to wait a moment, I will go and ask him,” said the servant, and then he went into the hall where the Tin Woodman sat with his friend the Scarecrow. Both were glad to learn that a stranger had arrived at the castle, for this would give them something new to talk about, so the servant was asked to admit the boy at once.

By the time Woot the Wanderer had passed through the grand corridors — all lined with ornamental tin — and under stately tin archways and through the many tin rooms all set with beautiful tin furniture, his eyes had grown bigger than ever and his whole little body thrilled with amazement. But, astonished though he was, he was able to make a polite bow before the throne and to say in a respectful voice: “I salute your Illustrious Majesty and offer you my humble services.”

“Very good!” answered the Tin Woodman in his accustomed cheerful manner. “Tell me who you are, and whence you come.”

“I am known as Woot the Wanderer,” answered the boy, “and I have come, through many travels and by roundabout ways, from my former home in a far corner of the Gillikin Country of Oz.”

“To wander from one’s home,” remarked the Scarecrow, “is to encounter dangers and hardships, especially if one is made of meat and bone. Had you no friends in that corner of the Gillikin Country? Was it not homelike and comfortable?”

To hear a man stuffed with straw speak, and speak so well, quite startled Woot, and perhaps he stared a bit rudely at the Scarecrow. But after a moment he replied:

“I had home and friends, your Honorable Strawness, but they were so quiet and happy and comfortable that I found them dismally stupid. Nothing in that corner of Oz interested me, but I believed that in other parts of the country I would find strange people and see new sights, and so I set out upon my wandering journey. I have been a wanderer for nearly a full year, and now my wanderings have brought me to this splendid castle.”

“I suppose,” said the Tin Woodman, “that in this year you have seen so much that you have become very wise.”

“No,” replied Woot, thoughtfully, “I am not at all wise, I beg to assure your Majesty. The more I wander the less I find that I know, for in the Land of Oz much wisdom and many things may be learned.”

“To learn is simple. Don’t you ask questions?” inquired the Scarecrow.

“Yes; I ask as many questions as I dare; but some people refuse to answer questions.”

“That is not kind of them,” declared the Tin Woodman. “If one does not ask for information he seldom receives it; so I, for my part, make it a rule to answer any civil question that is asked me.”

“So do I,” added the Scarecrow, nodding.

“I am glad to hear this,” said the Wanderer, “for it makes me bold to ask for something to eat.”

“Bless the boy!” cried the Emperor of the Winkies; “how careless of me not to remember that wanderers are usually hungry. I will have food brought you at once.”

Saying this he blew upon a tin whistle that was suspended from his tin neck, and at the summons a servant appeared and bowed low. The Tin Woodman ordered food for the stranger, and in a few minutes the servant brought in a tin tray heaped with a choice array of good things to eat, all neatly displayed on tin dishes that were polished till they shone like mirrors. The tray was set upon a tin table drawn before the throne, and the servant placed a tin chair before the table for the boy to seat himself.

“Eat, friend Wanderer,” said the Emperor cordially, “and I trust the feast will be to your liking. I, myself, do not eat, being made in such manner that I require no food to keep me alive. Neither does my friend the Scarecrow. But all my Winkie people eat, being formed of flesh, as you are, and so my tin cupboard is never bare, and strangers are always welcome to whatever it contains.”

The boy ate in silence for a time, being really hungry, but after his appetite was somewhat satisfied, he said:

“How happened your Majesty to be made of tin, and still be alive?”

“That,” replied the tin man, “is a long story.”

“The longer the better,” said the boy. “Won’t you please tell me the story?”

“If you desire it,” promised the Tin Woodman, leaning back in his tin throne and crossing his tin legs. “I haven’t related my history in a long while, because everyone here knows it nearly as well as I do. But you, being a stranger, are no doubt curious to learn how I became so beautiful and prosperous, so I will recite for your benefit my strange adventures.”

“Thank you,” said Woot the Wanderer, still eating.

“I was not always made of tin,” began the Emperor, “for in the beginning I was a man of flesh and bone and blood and lived in the Munchkin Country of Oz. There I was, by trade, a woodchopper, and contributed my share to the comfort of the Oz people by chopping up the trees of the forest to make firewood, with which the women would cook their meals while the children warmed themselves about the fires. For my home I had a little hut by the edge of the forest, and my life was one of much content until I fell in love with a beautiful Munchkin girl who lived not far away.”

“What was the Munchkin girl’s name?” asked Woot.

“Nimmie Amee. This girl, so fair that the sunsets blushed when their rays fell upon her, lived with a powerful witch who wore silver shoes and who had made the poor child her slave. Nimmie Amee was obliged to work from morning till night for the old Witch of the East, scrubbing and sweeping her hut and cooking her meals and washing her dishes. She had to cut firewood, too, until I found her one day in the forest and fell in love with her. After that, I always brought plenty of firewood to Nimmie Amee and we became very friendly. Finally I asked her to marry me, and she agreed to do so, but the Witch happened to overhear our conversation and it made her very angry, for she did not wish her slave to be taken away from her. The Witch commanded me never to come near Nimmie Amee again, but I told her I was my own master and would do as I pleased, not realizing that this was a careless way to speak to a Witch.

“The next day, as I was cutting wood in the forest, the cruel Witch enchanted my axe, so that it slipped and cut off my right leg.”

“How dreadful!” cried Woot the Wanderer.

“Yes, it was a seeming misfortune,” agreed the Tin Man, “for a one-legged woodchopper is of little use in his trade. But I would not allow the Witch to conquer me so easily. I knew a very skillful mechanic at the other side of the forest, who was my friend, so I hopped on one leg to him and asked him to help me. He soon made me a new leg out of tin and fastened it cleverly to my meat body. It had joints at the knee and at the ankle and was almost as comfortable as the leg I had lost.”

“Your friend must have been a wonderful workman!” exclaimed Woot.

“He was, indeed,” admitted the Emperor. “He was a tinsmith by trade and could make anything out of tin. When I returned to Nimmie Amee, the girl was delighted and threw her arms around my neck and kissed me, declaring she was proud of me. The Witch saw the kiss and was more angry than before. When I went to work in the forest, next day, my axe, being still enchanted, slipped and cut off my other leg. Again I hopped — on my tin leg — to my friend the tinsmith, who kindly made me another tin leg and fastened it to my body. So I returned joyfully to Nimmie Amee, who was much pleased with my glittering legs and promised that when we were wed she would always keep them oiled and polished. But the Witch was more furious than ever, and as soon as I raised my axe to chop, it twisted around and cut off one of my arms. The tinsmith made me a tin arm and I was not much worried, because Nimmie Amee declared she still loved me.”

Chapter Two

The Heart of the Tin Woodman

The Emperor of the Winkies paused in his story to reach for an oil-can, with which he carefully oiled the joints in his tin throat, for his voice had begun to squeak a little. Woot the Wanderer, having satisfied his hunger, watched this oiling process with much curiosity, but begged the Tin Man to go on with his tale.

“The Witch with the Silver Shoes hated me for having defied her,” resumed the Emperor, his voice now sounding clear as a bell, “and she insisted that Nimmie Amee should never marry me. Therefore she made the enchanted axe cut off my other arm, and the tinsmith also replaced that member with tin, including these finely-jointed hands that you see me using. But, alas! after that, the axe, still enchanted by the cruel Witch, cut my body in two, so that I fell to the ground. Then the Witch, who was watching from a near-by bush, rushed up and seized the axe and chopped my body into several small pieces, after which, thinking that at last she had destroyed me, she ran away laughing in wicked glee.

“But Nimmie Amee found me. She picked up my arms and legs and head, and made a bundle of them and carried them to the tinsmith, who set to work and made me a fine body of pure tin. When he had joined the arms and legs to the body, and set my head in the tin collar, I was a much better man than ever, for my body could not ache or pain me, and I was so beautiful and bright that I had no need of clothing. Clothing is always a nuisance, because it soils and tears and has to be replaced; but my tin body only needs to be oiled and polished.

“Nimmie Amee still declared she would marry me, as she still loved me in spite of the Witch’s evil deeds. The girl declared I would make the brightest husband in all the world, which was quite true. However, the Wicked Witch was not yet defeated. When I returned to my work the axe slipped and cut off my head, which was the only meat part of me then remaining. Moreover, the old woman grabbed up my severed head and carried it away with her and hid it. But Nimmie Amee came into the forest and found me wandering around helplessly, because I could not see where to go, and she led me to my friend the tinsmith. The faithful fellow at once set to work to make me a tin head, and he had just completed it when Nimmie Amee came running up with my old head, which she had stolen from the Witch. But, on reflection, I considered the tin head far superior to the meat one — I am wearing it yet, so you can see its beauty and grace of outline — and the girl agreed with me that a man all made of tin was far more perfect than one formed of different materials. The tinsmith was as proud of his workmanship as I was, and for three whole days, all admired me and praised my beauty. “Being now completely formed of tin, I had no more fear of the Wicked Witch, for she was powerless to injure me. Nimmie Amee said we must be married at once, for then she could come to my cottage and live with me and keep me bright and sparkling.

“‘I am sure, my dear Nick,’ said the brave and beautiful girl — my name was then Nick Chopper, you should be told — ‘that you will make the best husband any girl could have. I shall not be obliged to cook for you, for now you do not eat; I shall not have to make your bed, for tin does not tire or require sleep; when we go to a dance, you will not get weary before the music stops and say you want to go home. All day long, while you are chopping wood in the forest, I shall be able to amuse myself in my own way — a privilege few wives enjoy. There is no temper in your new head, so you will not get angry with me. Finally, I shall take pride in being the wife of the only live Tin Woodman in all the world!’ Which shows that Nimmie Amee was as wise as she was brave and beautiful.”

“I think she was a very nice girl,” said Woot the Wanderer. “But, tell me, please, why were you not killed when you were chopped to pieces?”

“In the Land of Oz,” replied the Emperor, “no one can ever be killed. A man with a wooden leg or a tin leg is still the same man; and, as I lost parts of my meat body by degrees, I always remained the same person as in the beginning, even though in the end I was all tin and no meat.”

“I see,” said the boy, thoughtfully. “And did you marry Nimmie Amee?”

“No,” answered the Tin Woodman, “I did not. She said she still loved me, but I found that I no longer loved her. My tin body contained no heart, and without a heart no one can love. So the Wicked Witch conquered in the end, and when I left the Munchkin Country of Oz, the poor girl was still the slave of the Witch and had to do her bidding day and night.”

“Where did you go?” asked Woot.

“Well, I first started out to find a heart, so I could love Nimmie Amee again; but hearts are more scarce than one would think. One day, in a big forest that was strange to me, my joints suddenly became rusted, because I had forgotten to oil them. There I stood, unable to move hand or foot. And there I continued to stand — while days came and went — until Dorothy and the Scarecrow came along and rescued me. They oiled my joints and set me free, and I’ve taken good care never to rust again.”

“Who was this Dorothy?” questioned the Wanderer.

“A little girl who happened to be in a house when it was carried by a cyclone all the way from Kansas to the Land of Oz. When the house fell, in the Munchkin Country, it fortunately landed on the Wicked Witch and smashed her flat. It was a big house, and I think the Witch is under it yet.”

“No,” said the Scarecrow, correcting him, “Dorothy says the Witch turned to dust, and the wind scattered the dust in every direction.”

“Well,” continued the Tin Woodman, “after meeting the Scarecrow and Dorothy, I went with them to the Emerald City, where the Wizard of Oz gave me a heart. But the Wizard’s stock of hearts was low, and he gave me a Kind Heart instead of a Loving Heart, so that I could not love Nimmie Amee any more than I did when I was heartless.”

“Couldn’t the Wizard give you a heart that was both Kind and Loving?” asked the boy.

“No; that was what I asked for, but he said he was so short on hearts, just then, that there was but one in stock, and I could take that or none at all. So I accepted it, and I must say that for its kind it is a very good heart indeed.”

“It seems to me,” said Woot, musingly, “that the Wizard fooled you. It can’t be a very Kind Heart, you know.”

“Why not?” demanded the Emperor.

“Because it was unkind of you to desert the girl who loved you, and who had been faithful and true to you when you were in trouble. Had the heart the Wizard gave you been a Kind Heart, you would have gone back home and made the beautiful Munchkin girl your wife, and then brought her here to be an Empress and live in your splendid tin castle.”

The Tin Woodman was so surprised at this frank speech that for a time he did nothing but stare hard at the boy Wanderer. But the Scarecrow wagged his stuffed head and said in a positive tone:

“This boy is right. I’ve often wondered, myself, why you didn’t go back and find that poor Munchkin girl.”

Then the Tin Woodman stared hard at his friend the Scarecrow. But finally he said in a serious tone of voice:

“I must admit that never before have I thought of such a thing as finding Nimmie Amee and making her Empress of the Winkies. But it is surely not too late, even now, to do this, for the girl must still be living in the Munchkin Country. And, since this strange Wanderer has reminded me of Nimmie Amee, I believe it is my duty to set out and find her. Surely it is not the girl’s fault that I no longer love her, and so, if I can make her happy, it is proper that I should do so, and in this way reward her for her faithfulness.”

“Quite right, my friend!” agreed the Scarecrow.

“Will you accompany me on this errand?” asked the Tin Emperor.

“Of course,” said the Scarecrow.

“And will you take me along?” pleaded Woot the Wanderer in an eager voice.

“To be sure,” said the Tin Woodman, “if you care to join our party. It was you who first told me it was my duty to find and marry Nimmie Amee, and I’d like you to know that Nick Chopper, the Tin Emperor of the Winkies, is a man who never shirks his duty, once it is pointed out to him.”

“It ought to be a pleasure, as well as a duty, if the girl is so beautiful,” said Woot, well pleased with the idea of the adventure.

“Beautiful things may be admired, if not loved,” asserted the Tin Man. “Flowers are beautiful, for instance, but we are not inclined to marry them. Duty, on the contrary, is a bugle call to action, whether you are inclined to act, or not. In this case, I obey the bugle call of duty.”

“When shall we start?” inquired the Scarecrow, who was always glad to embark upon a new adventure. “I don’t hear any bugle, but when do we go?”

“As soon as we can get ready,” answered the Emperor. “I’ll call my servants at once and order them to make preparations for our journey.”

Chapter Three

Roundabout

Woot the Wanderer slept that night in the tin castle of the Emperor of the Winkies and found his tin bed quite comfortable. Early the next morning he rose and took a walk through the gardens, where there were tin fountains and beds of curious tin flowers, and where tin birds perched upon the branches of tin trees and sang songs that sounded like the notes of tin whistles. All these wonders had been made by the clever Winkie tinsmiths, who wound the birds up every morning so that they would move about and sing.

After breakfast the boy went into the throne room, where the Emperor was having his tin joints carefully oiled by a servant, while other servants were stuffing sweet, fresh straw into the body of the Scarecrow.

Woot watched this operation with much interest, for the Scarecrow’s body was only a suit of clothes filled with straw. The coat was buttoned tight to keep the packed straw from falling out and a rope was tied around the waist to hold it in shape and prevent the straw from sagging down. The Scarecrow’s head was a gunnysack filled with bran, on which the eyes, nose and mouth had been painted. His hands were white cotton gloves stuffed with fine straw. Woot noticed that even when carefully stuffed and patted into shape, the straw man was awkward in his movements and decidedly wobbly on his feet, so the boy wondered if the Scarecrow would be able to travel with them all the way to the forests of the Munchkin Country of Oz.

The preparations made for this important journey were very simple. A knapsack was filled with food and given Woot the Wanderer to carry upon his back, for the food was for his use alone. The Tin Woodman shouldered an axe which was sharp and brightly polished, and the Scarecrow put the Emperor’s oil-can in his pocket, that he might oil his friend’s joints should they need it.

“Who will govern the Winkie Country during your absence?” asked the boy.

“Why, the Country will run itself,” answered the Emperor. “As a matter of fact, my people do not need an Emperor, for Ozma of Oz watches over the welfare of all her subjects, including the Winkies. Like a good many kings and emperors, I have a grand title, but very little real power, which allows me time to amuse myself in my own way. The people of Oz have but one law to obey, which is: ‘Behave Yourself,’ so it is easy for them to abide by this Law, and you’ll notice they behave very well. But it is time for us to be off, and I am eager to start because I suppose that that poor Munchkin girl is anxiously awaiting my coming.”

“She’s waited a long time already, seems to me,” remarked the Scarecrow, as they left the grounds of the castle and followed a path that led eastward.

“True,” replied the Tin Woodman; “but I’ve noticed that the last end of a wait, however long it has been, is the hardest to endure; so I must try to make Nimmie Amee happy as soon as possible.”

“Ah; that proves you have a Kind heart,” remarked the Scarecrow, approvingly.

“It’s too bad he hasn’t a Loving Heart,” said Woot. “This Tin Man is going to marry a nice girl through kindness, and not because he loves her, and somehow that doesn’t seem quite right.”

“Even so, I am not sure it isn’t best for the girl,” said the Scarecrow, who seemed very intelligent for a straw man, “for a loving husband is not always kind, while a kind husband is sure to make any girl content.”

“Nimmie Amee will become an Empress!” announced the Tin Woodman, proudly. “I shall have a tin gown made for her, with tin ruffles and tucks on it, and she shall have tin slippers, and tin earrings and bracelets, and wear a tin crown on her head. I am sure that will delight Nimmie Amee, for all girls are fond of finery.”

“Are we going to the Munchkin Country by way of the Emerald City?” inquired the Scarecrow, who looked upon the Tin Woodman as the leader of the party.

“I think not,” was the reply. “We are engaged upon a rather delicate adventure, for we are seeking a girl who fears her former lover has forgotten her. It will be rather hard for me, you must admit, when I confess to Nimmie Amee that I have come to marry her because it is my duty to do so, and therefore the fewer witnesses there are to our meeting the better for both of us. After I have found Nimmie Amee and she has managed to control her joy at our reunion, I shall take her to the Emerald City and introduce her to Ozma and Dorothy, and to Betsy Bobbin and Tiny Trot, and all our other friends; but, if I remember rightly, poor Nimmie Amee has a sharp tongue when angry, and she may be a trifle angry with me, at first, because I have been so long in coming to her.”

“I can understand that,” said Woot gravely. “But how can we get to that part of the Munchkin Country where you once lived without passing through the Emerald City?”

“Why, that is easy,” the Tin Man assured him.

“I have a map of Oz in my pocket,” persisted the boy, “and it shows that the Winkie Country, where we now are, is at the west of Oz, and the Munchkin Country at the east, while directly between them lies the Emerald City.”

“True enough; but we shall go toward the north, first of all, into the Gillikin Country, and so pass around the Emerald City,” explained the Tin Woodman.

“That may prove a dangerous journey,” replied the boy. “I used to live in one of the top corners of the Gillikin Country, near to Oogaboo, and I have been told that in this northland country are many people whom it is not pleasant to meet. I was very careful to avoid them during my journey south.”

“A Wanderer should have no fear,” observed the Scarecrow, who was wobbling along in a funny, haphazard manner, but keeping pace with his friends.

“Fear does not make one a coward,” returned Woot, growing a little red in the face, “but I believe it is more easy to avoid danger than to overcome it. The safest way is the best way, even for one who is brave and determined.”

“Do not worry, for we shall not go far to the north,” said the Emperor. “My one idea is to avoid the Emerald City without going out of our way more than is necessary. Once around the Emerald City we will turn south into the Munchkin Country, where the Scarecrow and I are well acquainted and have many friends.”

“I have traveled some in the Gillikin Country,” remarked the Scarecrow, “and while I must say I have met some strange people there at times, I have never yet been harmed by them.”

“Well, it’s all the same to me,” said Woot, with assumed carelessness. “Dangers, when they cannot be avoided, are often quite interesting, and I am willing to go wherever you two venture to go.”

So they left the path they had been following and began to travel toward the northeast, and all that day they were in the pleasant Winkie Country, and all the people they met saluted the Emperor with great respect and wished him good luck on his journey. At night they stopped at a house where they were well entertained and where Woot was given a comfortable bed to sleep in.

“Were the Scarecrow and I alone,” said the Tin Woodman, “we would travel by night as well as by day; but with a meat person in our party, we must halt at night to permit him to rest.”

“Meat tires, after a day’s travel,” added the Scarecrow, “while straw and tin never tire at all. Which proves,” said he, “that we are somewhat superior to people made in the common way.”

Woot could not deny that he was tired, and he slept soundly until morning, when he was given a good breakfast, smoking hot.

“You two miss a great deal by not eating,” he said to his companions.

“It is true,” responded the Scarecrow. “We miss suffering from hunger, when food cannot be had, and we miss a stomachache, now and then.”

As he said this, the Scarecrow glanced at the Tin Woodman, who nodded his assent.

All that second day they traveled steadily, entertaining one another the while with stories of adventures they had formerly met and listening to the Scarecrow recite poetry. He had learned a great many poems from Professor Wogglebug and loved to repeat them whenever anybody would listen to him. Of course Woot and the Tin Woodman now listened, because they could not do otherwise — unless they rudely ran away from their stuffed comrade. One of the Scarecrow’s recitations was like this:

“What sound is so sweet
As the straw from the wheat
When it crunkles so tender and low? It is yellow and bright,
So it gives me delight
To crunkle wherever I go.

“Sweet, fresh, golden Straw!
There is surely no flaw
In a stuffing so clean and compact. It creaks when I walk,
And it thrills when I talk,
And its fragrance is fine, for a fact. “To cut me don’t hurt,

For I’ve no blood to squirt,
And I therefore can suffer no pain; The straw that I use
Doesn’t lump up or bruise,
Though it’s pounded again and again!

“I know it is said
That my beautiful head
Has brains of mixed wheat-straw and bran, But my thoughts are so good
I’d not change, if I could,
For the brains of a common meat man.

“Content with my lot,
I’m glad that I’m not
Like others I meet day by day;
If my insides get musty,
Or mussed-up, or dusty,
I get newly stuffed right away.”

Chapter Four

The Loons of Loonville

Toward evening, the travelers found there was no longer a path to guide them, and the purple hues of the grass and trees warned them that they were now in the Country of the Gillikins, where strange peoples dwelt in places that were quite unknown to the other inhabitants of Oz. The fields were wild and uncultivated and there were no houses of any sort to be seen. But our friends kept on walking even after the sun went down, hoping to find a good place for Woot the Wanderer to sleep; but when it grew quite dark and the boy was weary with his long walk, they halted right in the middle of a field and allowed Woot to get his supper from the food he carried in his knapsack. Then the Scarecrow laid himself down, so that Woot could use his stuffed body as a pillow, and the Tin Woodman stood up beside them all night, so the dampness of the ground might not rust his joints or dull his brilliant polish. Whenever the dew settled on his body he carefully wiped it off with a cloth, and so in the morning the Emperor shone as brightly as ever in the rays of the rising sun.

They wakened the boy at daybreak, the Scarecrow saying to him:

“We have discovered something queer, and therefore we must counsel together what to do about it.”

“What have you discovered?” asked Woot, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his knuckles and giving three wide yawns to prove he was fully awake.

“A Sign,” said the Tin Woodman. “A Sign, and another path.”

“What does the Sign say?” inquired the boy.

“It says that ‘All Strangers are Warned not to Follow this Path to Loonville,'” answered the Scarecrow, who could read very well when his eyes had been freshly painted.

“In that case,” said the boy, opening his knapsack to get some breakfast, “let us travel in some other direction.”

But this did not seem to please either of his companions.

“I’d like to see what Loonville looks like,” remarked the Tin Woodman.

“When one travels, it is foolish to miss any interesting sight,” added the Scarecrow.

“But a warning means danger,” protested Woot the Wanderer, “and I believe it sensible to keep out of danger whenever we can.”

They made no reply to this speech for a while. Then said the Scarecrow:

“I have escaped so many dangers, during my lifetime, that I am not much afraid of anything that can happen.”

“Nor am I!” exclaimed the Tin Woodman, swinging his glittering axe around his tin head, in a series of circles. “Few things can injure tin, and my axe is a powerful weapon to use against a foe. But our boy friend,” he continued, looking solemnly at Woot, “might perhaps be injured if the people of Loonville are really dangerous; so I propose he waits here while you and I, Friend Scarecrow, visit the forbidden City of Loonville.”

“Don’t worry about me,” advised Woot, calmly. “Wherever you wish to go, I will go, and share your dangers. During my wanderings I have found it more wise to keep out of danger than to venture in, but at that time I was alone, and now I have two powerful friends to protect me.”

So, when he had finished his breakfast, they all set out along the path that led to Loonville.

“It is a place I have never heard of before,” remarked the Scarecrow, as they approached a dense forest. “The inhabitants may be people, of some sort, or they may be animals, but whatever they prove to be, we will have an interesting story to relate to Dorothy and Ozma on our return.”

The path led into the forest, but the big trees grew so closely together and the vines and underbrush were so thick and matted that they had to clear a path at each step in order to proceed. In one or two places the Tin Man, who went first to clear the way, cut the branches with a blow of his axe. Woot followed next, and last of the three came the Scarecrow, who could not have kept the path at all had not his comrades broken the way for his straw-stuffed body.

Presently the Tin Woodman pushed his way through some heavy underbrush, and almost tumbled headlong into a vast cleared space in the forest. The clearing was circular, big and roomy, yet the top branches of the tall trees reached over and formed a complete dome or roof for it. Strangely enough, it was not dark in this immense natural chamber in the woodland, for the place glowed with a soft, white light that seemed to come from some unseen source.

In the chamber were grouped dozens of queer creatures, and these so astonished the Tin Man that Woot had to push his metal body aside, that he might see, too. And the Scarecrow pushed Woot aside, so that the three travelers stood in a row, staring with all their eyes.

The creatures they beheld were round and ball-like; round in body, round in legs and arms, round in hands and feet and round of head. The only exception to the roundness was a slight hollow on the top of each head, making it saucer-shaped instead of dome-shaped. They wore no clothes on their puffy bodies, nor had they any hair. Their skins were all of a light gray color, and their eyes were mere purple spots. Their noses were as puffy as the rest of them.

“Are they rubber, do you think?” asked the Scarecrow, who noticed that the creatures bounded, as they moved, and seemed almost as light as air.

“It is difficult to tell what they are,” answered Woot, “they seem to be covered with warts.”

The Loons — for so these folks were called — had been doing many things, some playing together, some working at tasks and some gathered in groups to talk; but at the sound of strange voices, which echoed rather loudly through the clearing, all turned in the direction of the intruders. Then, in a body, they all rushed forward, running and bounding with tremendous speed.

The Tin Woodman was so surprised by this sudden dash that he had no time to raise his axe before the Loons were on them. The creatures swung their puffy hands, which looked like boxing-gloves, and pounded the three travelers as hard as they could, on all sides. The blows were quite soft and did not hurt our friends at all, but the onslaught quite bewildered them, so that in a brief period all three were knocked over and fell flat upon the ground. Once down, many of the Loons held them, to prevent their getting up again, while others wound long tendrils of vines about them, binding their arms and legs to their bodies and so rendering them helpless.

“Aha!” cried the biggest Loon of all; “we’ve got ’em safe; so let’s carry ’em to King Bal and have ’em tried, and condemned and perforated!” They had to drag their captives to the center of the domed chamber, for their weight, as compared with that of the Loons, prevented their being carried. Even the Scarecrow was much heavier than the puffy Loons. But finally the party halted before a raised platform, on which stood a sort of throne, consisting of a big, wide chair with a string tied to one arm of it. This string led upward to the roof of the dome.

Arranged before the platform, the prisoners were allowed to sit up, facing the empty throne.

“Good!” said the big Loon who had commanded the party. “Now to get King Bal to judge these terrible creatures we have so bravely captured.”

As he spoke he took hold of the string and began to pull as hard as he could. One or two of the others helped him and pretty soon, as they drew in the cord, the leaves above them parted and a Loon appeared at the other end of the string. It didn’t take long to draw him down to the throne, where he seated himself and was tied in, so he wouldn’t float upward again.

“Hello,” said the King, blinking his purple eyes at his followers; “what’s up now!”

“Strangers, your Majesty — strangers and captives,” replied the big Loon, pompously

“Dear me! I see ’em. I see ’em very plainly,” exclaimed the King, his purple eyes bulging out as he looked at the three prisoners. “What curious animals! Are they dangerous, do you think, my good Panta?”

“I’m ‘fraid so, your Majesty. Of course, they may not be dangerous, but we mustn’t take chances. Enough accidents happen to us poor Loons as it is, and my advice is to condemn and perforate ’em as quickly as possible.”

“Keep your advice to yourself,” said the monarch, in a peeved tone. “Who’s King here, anyhow? You or Me?”

“We made you our King because you have less common sense than the rest of us,” answered Panta Loon, indignantly. “I could have been King myself, had I wanted to, but I didn’t care for the hard work and responsibility.”

As he said this, the big Loon strutted back and forth in the space between the throne of King Bal and the prisoners, and the other Loons seemed much impressed by his defiance. But suddenly there came a sharp report and Panta Loon instantly disappeared, to the great astonishment of the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodman and Woot the Wanderer, who saw on the spot where the big fellow had stood a little heap of flabby, wrinkled skin that looked like a collapsed rubber balloon.

“There!” exclaimed the King; “I expected that would happen. The conceited rascal wanted to puff himself up until he was bigger than the rest of you, and this is the result of his folly. Get the pump working, some of you, and blow him up again.”

“We will have to mend the puncture first, your Majesty,” suggested one of the Loons, and the prisoners noticed that none of them seemed surprised or shocked at the sad accident to Panta.

“All right,” grumbled the King. “Fetch Til to mend him.”

One or two ran away and presently returned, followed by a lady Loon wearing huge, puffed-up rubber skirts. Also she had a purple feather fastened to a wart on the top of her head, and around her waist was a sash of fibre-like vines, dried and tough, that looked like strings.

“Get to work, Til,” commanded King Bal. “Panta has just exploded.”

The lady Loon picked up the bunch of skin and examined it carefully until she discovered a hole in one foot. Then she pulled a strand of string from her sash, and drawing the edges of the hole together. she tied them fast with the string, thus making one of those curious warts which the strangers had noticed on so many Loons. Having done this, Til Loon tossed the bit of skin to the other Loons and was about to go away when she noticed the prisoners and stopped to inspect them.

“Dear me!” said Til; “what dreadful creatures. Where did they come from?”

“We captured them,” replied one of the Loons.

“And what are we going to do with them?” inquired the girl Loon.

“Perhaps we’ll condemn ’em and puncture ’em,” answered the King.

“Well,” said she, still eyeing the “I’m not sure they’ll puncture. Let’s try it, and see.”

One of the Loons ran to the forest’s edge and quickly returned with a long, sharp thorn. He glanced at the King, who nodded his head in assent, and then he rushed forward and stuck the thorn into the leg of the Scarecrow. The Scarecrow merely smiled and said nothing, for the thorn didn’t hurt him at all.

Then the Loon tried to prick the Tin Woodman’s leg, but the tin only blunted the point of the thorn.

“Just as I thought,” said Til, blinking her purple eyes and shaking her puffy head; but just then the Loon stuck the thorn into the leg of Woot the Wanderer, and while it had been blunted somewhat, it was still sharp enough to hurt.

“Ouch!” yelled Woot, and kicked out his leg with so much energy that the frail bonds that tied him burst apart. His foot caught the Loon — who was leaning over him — full on his puffy stomach, and sent him shooting up into the air. When he was high over their heads he exploded with a loud “pop” and his skin fell to the ground.

“I really believe,” said the King, rolling his spotlike eyes in a frightened way, “that Panta was right in claiming these prisoners are dangerous. Is the pump ready?”

Some of the Loons had wheeled a big machine in front of the throne and now took Panta’s skin and began to pump air into it. Slowly it swelled out until the King cried “Stop!”

“No, no!” yelled Panta, “I’m not big enough yet.” “You’re as big as you’re going to be,” declared the King. “Before you exploded you were bigger than the rest of us, and that caused you to be proud and overbearing. Now you’re a little smaller than the rest, and you will last longer and be more humble.”

“Pump me up — pump me up!” wailed Panta “If you don’t you’ll break my heart.”

“If we do we’ll break your skin,” replied the King.

So the Loons stopped pumping air into Panta, and pushed him away from the pump. He was certainly more humble than before his accident, for he crept into the background and said nothing more.

“Now pump up the other one,” ordered the King. Til had already mended him, and the Loons set to work to pump him full of air.

During these last few moments none had paid much attention to the prisoners, so Woot, finding his legs free, crept over to the Tin Woodman and rubbed the bonds that were still around his arms and body against the sharp edge of the axe, which quickly cut them.

The boy was now free, and the thorn which the Loon had stuck into his leg was lying unnoticed on the ground, where the creature had dropped it when he exploded. Woot leaned forward and picked up the thorn, and while the Loons were busy watching the pump, the boy sprang to his feet and suddenly rushed upon the group.

“Pop” — “pop” — “pop!” went three of the Loons, when the Wanderer pricked them with his thorn, and at the sounds the others looked around and saw their danger. With yells of fear they bounded away in all directions, scattering about the clearing, with Woot the Wanderer in full chase. While they could run much faster than the boy, they often stumbled and fell, or got in one another’s way, so he managed to catch several and prick them with his thorn.

It astonished him to see how easily the Loons exploded. When the air was let out of them they were quite helpless. Til Loon was one of those who ran against his thorn and many others suffered the same fate. The creatures could not escape from the enclosure, but in their fright many bounded upward and caught branches of the trees, and then climbed out of reach of the dreaded thorn.

Woot was getting pretty tired chasing them, so he stopped and came over, panting, to where his friends were sitting, still bound.

“Very well done, my Wanderer,” said the Tin Woodman. “It is evident that we need fear these puffed-up creatures no longer, so be kind enough to unfasten our bonds and we will proceed upon our journey.”

Woot untied the bonds of the Scarecrow and helped him to his feet. Then he freed the Tin Woodman, who got up without help. Looking around them, they saw that the only Loon now remaining within reach was Bal Loon, the King, who had remained seated in his throne, watching the punishment of his people with a bewildered look in his purple eyes.

“Shall I puncture the King?” the boy asked his companions.

King Bal must have overheard the question, for he fumbled with the cord that fastened him to the throne and managed to release it. Then he floated upward until he reached the leafy dome, and parting the branches he disappeared from sight. But the string that was tied to his body was still connected with the arm of the throne, and they knew they could pull his Majesty down again, if they wanted to.

“Let him alone,” suggested the Scarecrow. “He seems a good enough king for his peculiar people, and after we are gone, the Loons will have something of a job to pump up all those whom Woot has punctured.”

“Every one of them ought to be exploded,” declared Woot, who was angry because his leg still hurt him.

“No,” said the Tin Woodman, “that would not be just fair. They were quite right to capture us, because we had no business to intrude here, having been warned to keep away from Loonville. This is their country, not ours, and since the poor things can’t get out of the clearing, they can harm no one save those who venture here out of curiosity, as we did.”

“Well said, my friend,” agreed tile Scarecrow. “We really had no right to disturb their peace and comfort; so let us go away.”

They easily found the place where they had forced their way into the enclosure, so the Tin Woodman pushed aside the underbrush and started first along the path. The Scarecrow followed next and last came Woot, who looked back and saw that the Loons were still clinging to their perches on the trees and watching their former captives with frightened eyes.

“I guess they’re glad to see the last of us,” remarked the boy, and laughing at the happy ending of the adventure, he followed his comrades along the path.

Chapter Five

Mrs. Yoop, the Giantess

When they had reached the end of the path, where they had first seen the warning sign, they set off across the country in an easterly direction. Before long they reached Rolling Lands, which were a succession of hills and valleys where constant climbs and descents were required, and their journey now became tedious, because on climbing each hill, they found before them nothing in the valley below it except grass, or weeds or stones.

Up and down they went for hours, with nothing to relieve the monotony of the landscape, until finally, when they had topped a higher hill than usual, they discovered a cup-shaped valley before them in the center of which stood an enormous castle, built of purple stone. The castle was high and broad and long, but had no turrets and towers. So far as they could see, there was but one small window and one big door on each side of the great building.

“This is strange!” mused the Scarecrow. “I’d no idea such a big castle existed in this Gillikin Country. I wonder who lives here?”

“It seems to me, from this distance,” remarked the Tin Woodman, “that it’s the biggest castle I ever saw. It is really too big for any use, and no one could open or shut those big doors without a stepladder.”

“Perhaps, if we go nearer, we shall find out whether anybody lives there or not,” suggested Woot. “Looks to me as if nobody lived there.”

On they went, and when they reached the center of the valley, where the great stone castle stood, it was beginning to grow dark. So they hesitated as to what to do.

“If friendly people happen to live here,” said Woot. I shall be glad of a bed; but should enemies occupy the place, I prefer to sleep upon the ground.”

“And if no one at all lives here,” added the Scarecrow, “we can enter, and take possession, and make ourselves at home.”

While speaking he went nearer to one of the great doors, which was three times as high and broad as any he had ever seen in a house before, and then he discovered, engraved in big letters upon a stone over the doorway, the words:

“YOOP CASTLE”

“Oho!” he exclaimed; “I know the place now. This was probably the home of Mr. Yoop, a terrible giant whom I have seen confined in a cage, a long way from here. Therefore this castle is likely to be empty and we may use it in any way we please.”

“Yes, yes,” said the Tin Emperor, nodding; “I also remember Mr. Yoop. But how are we to get into his deserted castle? The latch of the door is so far above our heads that none of us can reach it.”

They considered this problem for a while, and then Woot said to the Tin Man:

“If I stand upon your shoulders, I think I can unlatch the door.”

“Climb up, then,” was the reply, and when the boy was perched upon the tin shoulders of Nick Chopper, he was just able to reach the latch and raise it.

At once the door swung open, its great hinges making a groaning sound as if in protest, so Woot leaped down and followed his companions into a big, bare hallway. Scarcely were the three inside, however, when they heard the door slam shut behind them, and this astonished them because no one had touched it. It had closed of its own accord, as if by magic. Moreover, the latch was on the outside, and the thought occurred to each one of them that they were now prisoners in this unknown castle.

“However,” mumbled the Scarecrow, “we are not to blame for what cannot be helped; so let us push bravely ahead and see what may be seen.”

It was quite dark in the hallway, now that the outside door was shut, so as they stumbled along a stone passage they kept close together, not knowing what danger was likely to befall them.

Suddenly a soft glow enveloped them. It grew brighter, until they could see their surroundings distinctly. They had reached the end of the passage and before them was another huge door. This noiselessly swung open before them, without the help of anyone, and through the doorway they observed a big chamber, the walls of which were lined with plates of pure gold, highly polished.

This room was also lighted, although they could discover no lamps, and in the center of it was a great table at which sat an immense woman. She was clad in silver robes embroidered with gay floral designs, and wore over this splendid raiment a short apron of elaborate lace-work. Such an apron was no protection, and was not in keeping with the handsome gown, but the huge woman wore it, nevertheless. The table at which she sat was spread with a white cloth and had golden dishes upon it, so the travelers saw that they had surprised the Giantess while she was eating her supper.

She had her back toward them and did not even turn around, but taking a biscuit from a dish she began to butter it and said in a voice that was big and deep but not especially unpleasant:

“Why don’t you come in and allow the door to shut? You’re causing a draught, and I shall catch cold and sneeze. When I sneeze, I get cross, and when I get cross I’m liable to do something wicked. Come in, you foolish strangers; come in!”

Being thus urged, they entered the room and approached the table, until they stood where they faced the great Giantess. She continued eating, but smiled in a curious way as she looked at them. Woot noticed that the door had closed silently after they had entered, and that didn’t please him at all.

“Well,” said the Giantess, “what excuse have you to offer?”

“We didn’t know anyone lived here, Madam,” explained the Scarecrow; “so, being travelers and strangers in these parts, and wishing to find a place for our boy friend to sleep, we ventured to enter your castle.”

“You knew it was private property, I suppose?” said she, buttering another biscuit.

“We saw the words, ‘Yoop Castle,’ over the door, but we knew that Mr. Yoop is a prisoner in a cage in a far- off part of the land of Oz, so we decided there was no one now at home and that we might use the castle for the night.”

“I see,” remarked the Giantess, nodding her head and smiling again in that curious way — a way that made Woot shudder. “You didn’t know that Mr. Yoop was married, or that after he was cruelly captured his wife still lived in his castle and ran it to suit herself.”

“Who captured Mr. Yoop?” asked Woot, looking gravely at the big woman.

“Wicked enemies. People who selfishly objected to Yoop’s taking their cows and sheep for his food. I must admit, however, that Yoop had a bad temper, and had the habit of knocking over a few houses, now and then, when he was angry. So one day the little folks came in a great crowd and captured Mr. Yoop, and carried him away to a cage somewhere in the mountains. I don’t know where it is, and I don’t care, for my husband treated me badly at times, forgetting the respect a giant owes to a giantess. Often he kicked me on my shins, when I wouldn’t wait on him. So I’m glad he is gone.”

“It’s a wonder the people didn’t capture you, too,” remarked Woot.

“Well, I was too clever for them,” said she, giving a sudden laugh that caused such a breeze that the wobbly Scarecrow was almost blown off his feet and had to grab his friend Nick Chopper to steady himself. “I saw the people coining,” continued Mrs. Yoop, “and knowing they meant mischief I transformed myself into a mouse and hid in a cupboard. After they had gone away, carrying my shin-kicking husband with them, I transformed myself back to my former shape again, and here I’ve lived in peace and comfort ever since.”

“Are you a Witch, then? ” inquired Woot.

“Well, not exactly a Witch,” she replied, “but I’m an Artist in Transformations. In other words, I’m more of a Yookoohoo than a Witch, and of course you know that the Yookoohoos are the cleverest magic-workers in the world.”

The travelers were silent for a time, uneasily considering this statement and the effect it might have on their future. No doubt the Giantess had wilfully made them her prisoners; yet she spoke so cheerfully, in her big voice, that until now they had not been alarmed in the least.

By and by the Scarecrow, whose mixed brains had been working steadily, asked the woman:

“Are we to consider you our friend, Mrs. Yoop, or do you intend to be our enemy?”

“I never have friends,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone, “because friends get too familiar and always forget to mind their own business. But I am not your enemy; not yet, anyhow. Indeed, I’m glad you’ve come, for my life here is rather lonely. I’ve had no one to talk to since I transformed Polychrome, the Daughter of the Rainbow, into a canary-bird.”

“How did you manage to do that?” asked the Tin Woodman, in amazement. “Polychrome is a powerful fairy!”

“She was,” said the Giantess; “but now she’s a canary-bird. One day after a rain, Polychrome danced off the Rainbow and fell asleep on a little mound in this valley, not far from my castle. The sun came out and drove the Rainbow away, and before Poly wakened, I stole out and transformed her into a canary-bird in a gold cage studded with diamonds. The cage was so she couldn’t fly away. I expected she’d sing and talk and we’d have good times together; but she has proved no company for me at all. Ever since the moment of her transformation, she has refused to speak a single word.”

“Where is she now?” inquired Woot, who had heard tales of lovely Polychrome and was much interested in her.

“The cage is hanging up in my bedroom,” said the Giantess, eating another biscuit. The travelers were now more uneasy and suspicious of the Giantess than before. If Polychrome, the Rainbow’s Daughter, who was a real fairy, had been transformed and enslaved by this huge woman, who claimed to be a Yookoohoo, what was liable to happen to them? Said the Scarecrow, twisting his stuffed head around in Mrs. Yoop’s direction:

“Do you know, Ma’am, who we are?”

“Of course,” said she; “a straw man, a tin man and a boy.”

“We are very important people,” declared the Tin Woodman.

“All the better,” she replied. “I shall enjoy your society the more on that account. For I mean to keep you here as long as I live, to amuse me when I get lonely. And,” she added slowly, “in this Valley no one ever dies.”

They didn’t like this speech at all, so the Scarecrow frowned in a way that made Mrs. Yoop smile, while the Tin Woodman looked so fierce that Mrs. Yoop laughed. The Scarecrow suspected she was going to laugh, so he slipped behind his friends to escape the wind from her breath. From this safe position he said warningly:

“We have powerful friends who will soon come to rescue us.”

“Let them come,” she returned, with an accent of scorn. “When they get here they will find neither a boy, nor a tin man, nor a scarecrow, for tomorrow morning I intend to transform you all into other shapes, so that you cannot be recognized.”

This threat filled them with dismay. The good-natured Giantess was more terrible than they had imagined. She could smile and wear pretty clothes and at the same time be even more cruel than her wicked husband had been.

Both the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman tried to think of some way to escape from the castle before morning, but she seemed to read their thoughts and shook her head.

“Don’t worry your poor brains,” said she. “You can’t escape me, however hard you try. But why should you wish to escape? I shall give you new forms that are much better than the ones you now have. Be contented with your fate, for discontent leads to unhappiness, and unhappiness, in any form, is the greatest evil that can befall you.”

“What forms do you intend to give us?” asked Woot earnestly.

“I haven’t decided, as yet. I’ll dream over it tonight, so in the morning I shall have made up my mind how to transform you. Perhaps you’d prefer to choose your own transformations?”

“No,” said Woot, “I prefer to remain as I am.”

“That’s funny,” she retorted. “You are little, and you’re weak; as you are, you’re not much account, anyhow. The best thing about you is that you’re alive, for I shall be able to make of you some sort of live creature which will be a great improvement on your present form.”

She took another biscuit from a plate and dipped it in a pot of honey and calmly began eating it.

The Scarecrow watched her thoughtfully.

“There are no fields of grain in your Valley,” said he; “where, then. did you get the flour to make your biscuits?”

“Mercy me! do you think I’d bother to make biscuits out of flour?” she replied. “That is altogether too tedious a process for a Yookoohoo. I set some traps this afternoon and caught a lot of field-mice, but as I do not like to eat mice, I transformed them into hot biscuits for my supper. The honey in this pot was once a wasp’s nest, but since being transformed it has become sweet and delicious. All I need do, when I wish to eat, is to take something I don’t care to keep, and transform it into any sort of food I like, and eat it. Are you hungry?”

“I don’t eat, thank you,” said the Scarecrow.

“Nor do I,” said the Tin Woodman.

“I have still a little natural food in my knapsack,” said Woot the Wanderer, “and I’d rather eat that than any wasp’s nest.”

“Every one to his taste,” said the Giantess carelessly, and having now finished her supper she rose to her feet, clapped her hands together, and the supper table at once disappeared.

Chapter Six

The Magic of a Yookoohoo

Woot had seen very little of magic during his wanderings, while the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman had seen a great deal of many sorts in their lives, yet all three were greatly impressed by Mrs. Yoop’s powers. She did not affect any mysterious airs or indulge in chants or mystic rites, as most witches do, nor was the Giantess old and ugly or disagreeable in face or manner. Nevertheless, she frightened her prisoners more than any witch could have done.

“Please be seated,” she said to them, as she sat herself down in a great arm-chair and spread her beautiful embroidered skirts for them to admire. But all the chairs in the room were so high that our friends could not climb to the seats of them. Mrs. Yoop observed this and waved her hand, when instantly a golden ladder appeared leaning against a chair opposite her own.

“Climb up,” said she, and they obeyed, the Tin Man and the boy assisting the more clumsy Scarecrow. When they were all seated in a row on the cushion of the chair, the Giantess continued: “Now tell me how you happened to travel in this direction, and where you came from and what your errand is.”

So the Tin Woodman told her all about Nimmie Amee, and how he had decided to find her and marry her, although he had no Loving Heart. The story seemed to amuse the big woman, who then began to ask the Scarecrow questions and for the first time in her life heard of Ozma of Oz, and of Dorothy and Jack Pumpkinhead and Dr. Pipt and Tik-tok and many other Oz people who are well known in the Emerald City. Also Woot had to tell his story, which. was very simple and did not take long. The Giantess laughed heartily when the boy related their adventure at Loonville, but said she knew nothing of the Loons because she never left her Valley.

“There are wicked people who would like to capture me, as they did my giant husband, Mr. Yoop,” said she; “so I stay at home and mind my own business.”

“If Ozma knew that you dared to work magic without her consent, she would punish you severely,” declared the Scarecrow, “for this castle is in the Land of Oz, and no persons in the Land of Oz are permitted to work magic except Glinda the Good and the little Wizard who lives with Ozma in the Emerald City.”

“That for your Ozma!” exclaimed the Giantess, snapping her fingers in derision. “What do I care for a girl whom I have never seen and who has never seen me?”

“But Ozma is a fairy,” said the Tin Woodman, and therefore she is very powerful. Also, we are under Ozma’s protection, and to injure us in any way would make her extremely angry.”

“What I do here, in my own private castle in this secluded Valley — where no one comes but fools like you — can never be known to your fairy Ozma,” returned the Giantess. “Do not seek to frighten me from my purpose, and do not allow yourselves to be frightened, for it is best to meet bravely what cannot be avoided. I am now going to bed, and in the morning I will give you all new forms, such as will be more interesting to me than the ones you now wear. Good night, and pleasant dreams.”

Saying this, Mrs. Yoop rose from her chair and walked through a doorway into another room. So heavy was the tread of the Giantess that even the walls of the big stone castle trembled as she stepped. She closed the door of her bedroom behind her, and then suddenly the light went out and the three prisoners found themselves in total darkness.

The Tin Woodman and the Scarecrow didn’t mind the dark at all, but Woot the Wanderer felt worried to be left in this strange place in this strange manner, without being able to see any danger that might threaten.

“The big woman might have given me a bed, anyhow,” he said to his companions, and scarcely had he spoken when he felt something press against his legs, which were then dangling from the seat of the chair. Leaning down, he put out his hand and found that a bedstead had appeared, with mattress, sheets and covers, all complete. He lost no time in slipping down upon the bed and was soon fast asleep.

During the night the Scarecrow and the Emperor talked in low tones together, and they got out of the chair and moved all about the room, feeling for some hidden spring that might open a door or window and permit them to escape.

Morning found them still unsuccessful in the quest and as soon as it was daylight Woot’s bed suddenly disappeared, and he dropped to the floor with a thump that quickly wakened him. And after a time the Giantess came from her bedroom, wearing another dress that was quite as elaborate as the one in which she had been attired the evening before, and also wearing the pretty lace apron. Having seated herself in a chair, she said:

“I’m hungry; so I’ll have breakfast at once.”

She clapped her hands together and instantly the table appeared before her, spread with snowy linen and laden with golden dishes. But there was no food upon the table, nor anything else except a pitcher of water, a bundle of weeds and a handful of pebbles. But the Giantess poured some water into her coffee-pot, patted it once or twice with her hand, and then poured out a cupful of steaming hot coffee.

“Would you like some?” she asked Woot.

He was suspicious of magic coffee, but it smelled so good that he could not resist it; so he answered: “If you please, Madam.”

The Giantess poured out another cup and set it on the floor for Woot. It was as big as a tub, and the golden spoon in the saucer beside the cup was so heavy the boy could scarcely lift it. But Woot managed to get a sip of the coffee and found it delicious.

Mrs. Yoop next transformed the weeds into a dish of oatmeal, which she ate with good appetite.

“Now, then,” said she, picking up the pebbles. “I’m wondering whether I shall have fish-balls or lamb-chops to complete my meal. Which would you prefer, Woot the Wanderer?”

“If you please, I’ll eat the food in my knapsack,” answered the boy. “Your magic food might taste good, but I’m afraid of it.”

The woman laughed at his fears and transformed the pebbles into fish-balls.

“I suppose you think that after you had eaten this food it would turn to stones again and make you sick,” she remarked; “but that would be impossible. Nothing I transform ever gets back to its former shape again, so these fish-balls can never more be pebbles. That is why I have to be careful of my transformations,” she added, busily eating while she talked, “for while I can change forms at will I can never change them back again — which proves that even the powers of a clever Yookoohoo are limited. When I have transformed you three people, you must always wear the shapes that I have given you.”

“Then please don’t transform us,” begged Woot, “for we are quite satisfied to remain as we are.”

“I am not expecting to satisfy you, but intend to please myself,” she declared, “and my pleasure is to give you new shapes. For, if by chance your friends came in search of you, not one of them would be able to recognize you.”

Her tone was so positive that they knew it would be useless to protest. The woman was not unpleasant to look at; her face was not cruel; her voice was big but gracious in tone; but her words showed that she possessed a merciless heart and no pleadings would alter her wicked purpose.

Mrs. Yoop took ample time to finish her breakfast and the prisoners had no desire to hurry her, but finally the meal was concluded and she folded her napkin and made the table disappear by clapping her hands together. Then she turned to her captives and said:

“The next thing on the programme is to change your forms.”

“Have you decided what forms to give us?” asked the Scarecrow, uneasily.

“Yes; I dreamed it all out while I was asleep. This Tin Man seems a very solemn person ” — indeed, the Tin Woodman was looking solemn, just then, for he was greatly disturbed — “so I shall change him into an Owl.”

All she did was to point one finger at him as she spoke, but immediately the form of the Tin Woodman began to change and in a few seconds Nick Chopper, the Emperor of the Winkies, had been transformed into an Owl, with eyes as big as saucers and a hooked beak and strong claws. But he was still tin. He was a Tin Owl, with tin legs and beak and eyes and feathers. When he flew to the back of a chair and perched upon it, his tin feathers rattled against one another with a tinny clatter. The Giantess seemed much amused by the Tin Owl’s appearance, for her laugh was big and jolly.

“You’re not liable to get lost,” said she, “for your wings and feathers will make a racket wherever you go. And, on my word, a Tin Owl is so rare and pretty that it is an improvement on the ordinary bird. I did not intend to make you tin, but I forgot to wish you to be meat. However, tin you were, and tin you are, and as it’s too late to change you, that settles it.”

Until now the Scarecrow had rather doubted the possibility of Mrs. Yoop’s being able to transform him, or his friend the Tin Woodman, for they were not made as ordinary people are. He had worried more over what might happen to Woot than to himself, but now he began to worry about himself.

“Madam,” he said hastily, “I consider this action very impolite. It may even be called rude, considering we are your guests.”

“You are not guests, for I did not invite you here,” she replied.

“Perhaps not; but we craved hospitality. We threw ourselves upon your mercy, so to speak, and we now find you have no mercy. Therefore, if you will excuse the expression, I must say it is downright wicked to take our proper forms away from us and give us others that we do not care for.”

“Are you trying to make me angry?” she asked, frowning.

“By no means,” said the Scarecrow; “I’m just trying to make you act more ladylike.”

“Oh, indeed! In my opinion, Mr. Scarecrow, you are now acting like a bear — so a Bear you shall be!”

Again the dreadful finger pointed, this time in the Scarecrow’s direction, and at once his form began to change. In a few seconds he had become a small Brown Bear, but he was stuffed with straw as he had been before, and when the little Brown Bear shuffled across the floor he was just as wobbly as the Scarecrow had been and moved just as awkwardly.

Woot was amazed, but he was also thoroughly frightened.

“Did it hurt?” he asked the little Brown Bear.

“No, of course not,” growled the Scarecrow in the Bear’s form; “but I don’t like walking on four legs; it’s undignified.”

“Consider my humiliation!” chirped the Tin Owl, trying to settle its tin feathers smoothly with its tin beak. “And I can’t see very well, either. The light seems to hurt my eyes.”

“That’s because you are an Owl,” said Woot. “I think you will see better in the dark.”

“Well,” remarked the Giantess, “I’m very well pleased with these new forms, for my part, and I’m sure you will like them better when you get used to them. So now,” she added, turning to the boy, “it is your turn.”

“Don’t you think you’d better leave me as I am?” asked Woot in a trembling voice.

“No,” she replied, “I’m going to make a Monkey of you. I love monkeys — they’re so cute! — and I think a Green Monkey will be lots of fun and amuse me when I am sad.”

Woot shivered, for again the terrible magic finger pointed, and pointed directly his way. He felt himself changing; not so very much, however, and it didn’t hurt him a bit. He looked down at his limbs and body and found that his clothes were gone and his skin covered with a fine, silk-like green fur. His hands and feet were now those of a monkey. He realized he really was a monkey, and his first feeling was one of anger. He began to chatter as monkeys do. He bounded to the seat of a giant chair, and then to its back and with a wild leap sprang upon the laughing Giantess. His idea was to seize her hair and pull it out by the roots, and so have revenge for her wicked transformations. But she raised her hand and said:

“Gently, my dear Monkey — gently! You’re not angry; you’re happy as can be!”

Woot stopped short. No; he wasn’t a bit angry now; he felt as good-humored and gay as ever he did when a boy. Instead of pulling Mrs. Yoop’s hair, he perched on her shoulder and smoothed her soft cheek with his hairy paw. In return, she smiled at the funny green animal and patted his head.

“Very good,” said the Giantess. “Let us all become friends and be happy together. How is my Tin Owl feeling?”

“Quite comfortable,” said the Owl. “I don’t like it, to be sure, but I’m not going to allow my new form to make me unhappy. But, tell me, please: what is a Tin Owl good for?”

“You are only good to make me laugh,” replied the Giantess.

“Will a stuffed Bear also make you laugh?” inquired the Scarecrow, sitting back on his haunches to look up at her.

“Of course,” declared the Giantess; “and I have added a little magic to your transformations to make you all contented with wearing your new forms. I’m sorry I didn’t think to do that when I transformed Polychrome into a Canary-Bird. But perhaps, when she sees how cheerful you are, she will cease to be silent and sullen and take to singing. I will go get the bird and let you see her.”

With this, Mrs. Yoop went into the next room and soon returned bearing a golden cage in which sat upon a swinging perch a lovely yellow Canary. “Polychrome,” said the Giantess, “permit me to introduce to you a Green Monkey, which used to be a boy called Woot the Wanderer, and a Tin Owl, which used to be a Tin Woodman named Nick Chopper, and a straw-stuffed little Brown Bear which used to be a live Scarecrow.”

“We already know one another,” declared the Scarecrow. “The bird is Polychrome, the Rainbow’s Daughter, and she and I used to be good friends.”

“Are you really my old friend, the Scarecrow?” asked; the bird, in a sweet, low voice.

“There!” cried Mrs. Yoop; “that’s the first time she has spoken since she was transformed.”

“I am really your old friend,” answered the Scarecrow; “but you must pardon me for appearing just now in this brutal form.”

“I am a bird, as you are, dear Poly,” said the Tin Woodman; “but, alas! a Tin Owl is not as beautiful as a Canary-Bird.”

“How dreadful it all is!” sighed the Canary. “Couldn’t you manage to escape from this terrible Yookoohoo?”

No,” answered the Scarecrow, “we tried to escape, but failed. She first made us her prisoners and then transformed us. But how did she manage to get you, Polychrome?”‘

“I was asleep, and she took unfair advantage of me,” answered the bird sadly. “Had I been awake, I could easily have protected myself.”

“Tell me,” said the Green Monkey earnestly, as he came close to the cage, “what must we do, Daughter of the Rainbow, to escape from these transformations? Can’t you help us, being a Fairy?” “At present I am powerless to help even myself,” replied the Canary.

“That’s the exact truth!” exclaimed the Giantess, who seemed pleased to hear the bird talk, even though it complained; “you are all helpless and in my power, so you may as well make up your minds to accept your fate and be content. Remember that you are transformed for good, since no magic on earth can break your enchantments. I am now going out for my morning walk, for each day after breakfast I walk sixteen times around my castle for exercise. Amuse yourselves while I am gone, and when I return I hope to find you all reconciled and happy.”

So the Giantess walked to the door by which our friends had entered the great hall and spoke one word: “Open!” Then the door swung open and after Mrs. Yoop had passed out it closed again with a snap as its powerful bolts shot into place. The Green Monkey had rushed toward the opening, hoping to escape, but he was too late and only got a bump on his nose as the door slammed shut.