place as near to the great Munchkin forest as a wagon could get. The Red Wagon was big enough to seat them all, and so, bidding good-bye to Jinjur, who gave Woot a basket of ripe cream-puffs and caramels to take with him, Ozma commanded the Wooden Sawhorse to start, and the strange creature moved swiftly over the lanes and presently came to the Road of Yellow Bricks. This road led straight to a dense forest, where the path was too narrow for the Red Wagon to proceed farther, so here the party separated.
Ozma and Dorothy and Toto returned to the Emerald City, after wishing their friends a safe and successful journey, while the Tin Woodman, the Scarecrow, Woot the Wanderer and Polychrome, the Rainbow’s Daughter, prepared to push their way through the thick forest. However, these forest paths were well known to the Tin Man and the Scarecrow, who felt quite at home among the trees.
“I was born in this grand forest,” said Nick Chopper, the tin Emperor, speaking proudly, “and it was here that the Witch enchanted my axe and I lost different parts of my meat body until I became all tin. Here, also — for it is a big forest — Nimmie Amee lived with the Wicked Witch, and at the other edge of the trees stands the cottage of my friend Ku-Klip, the famous tinsmith who made my present beautiful form.”
“He must be a clever workman,” declared Woot, admiringly.
“He is simply wonderful,” declared the Tin Woodman.
“I shall be glad to make his acquaintance,” said Woot.
“If you wish to meet with real cleverness,” remarked the Scarecrow, “you should visit the Munchkin farmer who first made me. I won’t say that my friend the Emperor isn’t all right for a tin man, but any judge of beauty can understand that a Scarecrow is far more artistic and refined.”
“You are too soft and flimsy,” said the Tin Woodman.
“You are too hard and stiff,” said the Scarecrow, and this was as near to quarreling as the two friends ever came. Polychrome laughed at them both, as well she might, and Woot hastened to change the subject.
At night they all camped underneath the trees. The boy ate cream-puffs for supper and offered Polychrome some, but she preferred other food and at daybreak sipped the dew that was clustered thick on the forest flowers. Then they tramped onward again, and presently the Scarecrow paused and said:
“It was on this very spot that Dorothy and I first met the Tin Woodman, who was rusted so badly that none of his joints would move. But after we had oiled him up, he was as good as new and accompanied us to the Emerald City.”
“Ah, that was a sad experience,” asserted the Tin Woodman soberly. “I was caught in a rainstorm while chopping down a tree for exercise, and before I realized it, I was firmly rusted in every joint. There I stood, axe in hand, but unable to move, for days and weeks and months! Indeed, I have never known exactly how long the time was; but finally along came Dorothy and I was saved. See! This is the very tree I was chopping at the time I rusted.”
“You cannot be far from your old home, in that case,” said Woot.
“No; my little cabin stands not a great way off, but there is no occasion for us to visit it. Our errand is with Nimmie Amee, and her house is somewhat farther away, to the left of us.”
“Didn’t you say she lives with a Wicked Witch, who makes her a slave?” asked the boy.
“She did, but she doesn’t,” was the reply. “I am told the Witch was destroyed when Dorothy’s house fell on her, so now Nimmie Amee must live all alone. I haven’t seen her, of course, since the Witch was crushed, for at that time I was standing rusted in the forest and had been there a long time, but the poor girl must have felt very happy to be free from her cruel mistress.”
“Well,” said the Scarecrow, “let’s travel on and find Nimmie Amee. Lead on, your Majesty, since you know the way, and we will follow.”
So the Tin Woodman took a path that led through the thickest part of the forest, and they followed it for some time. The light was dim here, because vines and bushes and leafy foliage were all about them, and often the Tin Man had to push aside the branches that obstructed their way, or cut them off with his axe. After they had proceeded some distance, the Emperor suddenly stopped short and exclaimed: “Good gracious!”
The Scarecrow, who was next, first bumped into his friend and then peered around his tin body, and said in a tone of wonder:
“Well, I declare!”
Woot the Wanderer pushed forward to see what was the matter, and cried out in astonishment: “For goodness’ sake!”
Then the three stood motionless, staring hard, until Polychrome’s merry laughter rang out behind them and aroused them from their stupor.
In the path before them stood a tin man who was the exact duplicate of the Tin Woodman. He was of the same size, he was jointed in the same manner, and he was made of shining tin from top to toe. But he stood immovable, with his tin jaws half parted and his tin eyes turned upward. In one of his hands was held a long, gleaming sword. Yes, there was the difference, the only thing that distinguished him from the Emperor of the Winkies. This tin man bore a sword, while the Tin Woodman bore an axe.
“It’s a dream; it must be a dream!” gasped Woot.
“That’s it, of course,” said the Scarecrow; “there couldn’t be two Tin Woodmen.”
“No,” agreed Polychrome, dancing nearer to the stranger, “this one is a Tin Soldier. Don’t you see his sword?”
The Tin Woodman cautiously put out one tin hand and felt of his double’s arm. Then he said in a voice that trembled with emotion:
“Who are you, friend?”
There was no reply
“Can’t you see he’s rusted, just as you were once?” asked Polychrome, laughing again. “Here, Nick Chopper, lend me your oil-can a minute!”
The Tin Woodman silently handed her his oil-can, without which he never traveled, and Polychrome first oiled the stranger’s tin jaws and then worked them gently to and fro until the Tin Soldier said:
“That’s enough. Thank you. I can now talk. But please oil my other joints.”
Woot seized the oil-can and did this, but all the others helped wiggle the soldier’s joints as soon as they were oiled, until they moved freely.
The Tin Soldier seemed highly pleased at his release. He strutted up and down the path, saying in a high, thin voice:
“The Soldier is a splendid man
When marching on parade,
And when he meets the enemy
He never is afraid.
He rights the wrongs of nations,
His country’s flag defends,
The foe he’ll fight with great delight, But seldom fights his friends.”
Chapter Sixteen
Captain Fyter
“Are you really a soldier?” asked Woot, when they had all watched this strange tin person parade up and down the path and proudly flourish his sword.
“I was a soldier,” was the reply, “but I’ve been a prisoner to Mr. Rust so long that I don’t know exactly what I am.”
“But — dear me!” cried the Tin Woodman, sadly perplexed; “how came you to be made of tin?”
“That,” answered the Soldier, “is a sad, sad story I was in love with a beautiful Munchkin girl, who lived with a Wicked Witch. The Witch did not wish me to marry the girl, so she enchanted my sword, which began hacking me to pieces. When I lost my legs I went to the tinsmith, Ku-Klip, and he made me some tin legs. When I lost my arms, Ku-Klip made me tin arms, and when I lost my head he made me this fine one out of tin. It was the same way with my body, and finally I was all tin. But I was not unhappy, for Ku-Klip made a good job of me, having had experience in making another tin man before me.”
“Yes,” observed the Tin Woodman, “it was Ku-Klip who made me. But, tell me, what was the name of the Munchkin girl you were in love with?”
“She is called Nimmie Amee,” said the Tin Soldier.
Hearing this, they were all so astonished that they were silent for a time, regarding the stranger with wondering looks. Finally the Tin Woodman ventured to ask:
“And did Nimmie Amee return your love?”
“Not at first,” admitted the Soldier. “When first I marched into the forest and met her, she was weeping over the loss of her former sweetheart, a woodman whose name was Nick Chopper.”
“That is me,” said the Tin Woodman.
“She told me he was nicer than a soldier, because he was all made of tin and shone beautifully in the sun. She said a tin man appealed to her artistic instincts more than an ordinary meat man, as I was then. But I did not despair, because her tin sweetheart had disappeared, and could not be found. And finally Nimmie Amee permitted me to call upon her and we became friends. It was then that the Wicked Witch discovered me and became furiously angry when I said I wanted to marry the girl. She enchanted my sword, as I said, and then my troubles began. When I got my tin legs, Nimmie Amee began to take an interest in me; when I got my tin arms, she began to like me better than ever, and when I was all made of tin, she said I looked like her dear Nick Chopper and she would be willing to marry me.
“The day of our wedding was set, and it turned out to be a rainy day. Nevertheless I started out to get Nimmie Amee, because the Witch had been absent for some time, and we meant to elope before she got back. As I traveled the forest paths the rain wetted my joints, but I paid no attention to this because my thoughts were all on my wedding with beautiful Nimmie Amee and I could think of nothing else until suddenly my legs stopped moving. Then my arms rusted at the joints and I became frightened and cried for help, for now I was unable to oil myself. No one heard my calls and before long my jaws rusted, and I was unable to utter another sound. So I stood helpless in this spot, hoping some wanderer would come my way and save me. But this forest path is seldom used, and I have been standing here so long that I have lost all track of time. In my mind I composed poetry and sang songs, but not a sound have I been able to utter. But this desperate condition has now been relieved by your coming my way and I must thank you for my rescue.”
“This is wonderful!” said the Scarecrow, heaving a stuffy, long sigh. “I think Ku-Klip was wrong to make two tin men, just alike, and the strangest thing of all is that both you tin men fell in love with the same girl.”
“As for that,” returned the Soldier, seriously, “I must admit I lost my ability to love when I lost my meat heart. Ku-Klip gave me a tin heart, to be sure, but it doesn’t love anything, as far as I can discover, and merely rattles against my tin ribs, which makes me wish I had no heart at all.”
“Yet, in spite of this condition, you were going to marry Nimmie Amee?”
“Well, you see I had promised to marry her, and I am an honest man and always try to keep my promises. I didn’t like to disappoint the poor girl, who had been disappointed by one tin man already.”
“That was not my fault,” declared the Emperor of the Winkies, and then he related how he, also, had rusted in the forest and after a long time had been rescued by Dorothy and the Scarecrow and had traveled with them to the Emerald City in search of a heart that could love.
“If you have found such a heart, sir,” said the Soldier, “I will gladly allow you to marry Nimmie Amee in my place.”
“If she loves you best, sir,” answered the Woodman, “I shall not interfere with your wedding her. For, to be quite frank with you, I cannot yet love Nimmie Amee as I did before I became tin.”
“Still, one of you ought to marry the poor girl,” remarked Woot; “and, if she likes tin men, there is not much choice between you. Why don’t you draw lots for her?”
“That wouldn’t be right,” said the Scarecrow.
“The girl should be permitted to choose her own husband,” asserted Polychrome. “You should both go to her and allow her to take her choice. Then she will surely be happy.”
“That, to me, seems a very fair arrangement,” said the Tin Soldier.
“I agree to it,” said the Tin Woodman, shaking the hand of his twin to show the matter was settled. “May I ask your name, sir?” he continued.
“Before I was so cut up,” replied the other, “I was known as Captain Fyter, but afterward I was merely called ‘The Tin Soldier.'”
“Well, Captain, if you are agreeable, let us now go to Nimmie Amee’s house and let her choose between us.”
“Very well; and if we meet the Witch, we will both fight her — you with your axe and I with my sword.”
“The Witch is destroyed,” announced the Scarecrow, and as they walked away he told the Tin Soldier of much that had happened in the Land of Oz since he had stood rusted in the forest.
“I must have stood there longer than I had imagined,” he said thoughtfully
Chapter Seventeen
The Workshop of Ku-Klip
It was not more than a two hours’ journey to the house where Nimmie Amee had lived, but when our travelers arrived there they found the place deserted. The door was partly off its hinges, the roof had fallen in at the rear and the interior of the cottage was thick with dust. Not only was the place vacant, but it was evident that no one had lived there for a long time.
“I suppose,” said the Scarecrow, as they all stood looking wonderingly at the ruined house, “that after the Wicked Witch was destroyed, Nimmie Amee became lonely and went somewhere else to live.”
“One could scarcely expect a young girl to live all alone in a forest,” added Woot. “She would want company, of course, and so I believe she has gone where other people live.”
“And perhaps she is still crying her poor little heart out because no tin man comes to marry her,” suggested Polychrome.
“Well, in that case, it is the clear duty of you two tin persons to seek Nimmie Amee until you find her,” declared the Scarecrow.
“I do not know where to look for the girl,” said the Tin Soldier, “for I am almost a stranger to this part of the country.”
“I was born here,” said the Tin Woodman, “but the forest has few inhabitants except the wild beasts. I cannot think of anyone living near here with whom Nimmie Amee might care to live.”
“Why not go to Ku-Klip and ask him what has become of the girl?” proposed Polychrome.
That struck them all as being a good suggestion, so once more they started to tramp through the forest, taking the direct path to Ku-Klip’s house, for both the tin twins knew the way, having followed it many times.
Ku-Klip lived at the far edge of the great forest, his house facing the broad plains of the Munchkin Country that lay to the eastward. But, when they came to this residence by the forest’s edge, the tinsmith was not at home.
It was a pretty place, all painted dark blue with trimmings of lighter blue. There was a neat blue fence around the yard and several blue benches had been placed underneath the shady blue trees which marked the line between forest and plain. There was a blue lawn before the house, which was a good sized building. Ku- Klip lived in the front part of the house and had his work-shop in the back part, where he had also built a lean-to addition, in order to give him more room.
Although they found the tinsmith absent on their arrival, there was smoke coming out of his chimney, which proved that he would soon return.
“And perhaps Nimmie Amee will be with him,” said the Scarecrow in a cheerful voice.
While they waited, the Tin Woodman went to the door of the workshop and, finding it unlocked, entered and looked curiously around the room where he had been made.
“It seems almost like home to me,” hie told his friends, who had followed him in. “The first time I came here I had lost a leg, so I had to carry it in my hand while I hopped on the other leg all the way from the place in the forest where the enchanted axe cut me. I remember that old Ku-Klip carefully put my meat leg into a barrel — I think that is the same barrel, still standing in the corner yonder — and then at once he began to make a tin leg for me. He worked fast and with skill, and I was much interested in the job.”
“My experience was much the same,” said the Tin Soldier. “I used to bring all the parts of me, which the enchanted sword had cut away, here to the tinsmith, and Ku-Klip would put them into the barrel.”
“I wonder,” said Woot, “if those cast-off parts of you two unfortunates are still in that barrel in the corner?”
“I suppose so.” replied the Tin Woodman. “In the Land of Oz no part of a living creature can ever be destroyed.”
“If that is true, how was that Wicked Witch destroyed?” inquired Woot.
“Why, she was very old and was all dried up and withered before Oz became a fairyland,” explained the Scarecrow. “Only her magic arts had kept her alive so long, and when Dorothy’s house fell upon her she just turned to dust, and was blown away and scattered by the wind. I do not think, however, that the parts cut away from these two young men could ever be entirely destroyed and, if they are still in those barrels, they are likely to be just the same as when the enchanted axe or sword severed them.”
“It doesn’t matter, however,” said the Tin Woodman; “our tin bodies are more brilliant and durable, and quite satisfy us.”
“Yes, the tin bodies are best,” agreed the Tin Soldier. “Nothing can hurt them.”
“Unless they get dented or rusted,” said Woot, but both the tin men frowned on him.
Scraps of tin, of all shapes and sizes, lay scattered around the workshop. Also there were hammers and anvils and soldering irons and a charcoal furnace and many other tools such as a tinsmith works with. Against two of the side walls had been built stout work-benches and in the center of the room was a long table. At the end of the shop, which adjoined the dwelling, were several cupboards.
After examining the interior of the workshop until his curiosity was satisfied, Woot said;
“I think I will go outside until Ku-Klip comes. It does not seem quite proper for us to take possession of his house while he is absent.”
“That is true,” agreed the Scarecrow, and they were all about to leave the room when the Tin Woodman said: “Wait a minute,” and they halted in obedience to the command.
Chapter Eighteen
The Tin Woodman Talks to Himself
The Tin Woodman had just noticed the cupboards and was curious to know what they contained, so he went to one of them and opened the door. There were shelves inside, and upon one of the shelves which was about on a level with his tin chin the Emperor discovered a Head — it looked like a doll’s head, only it was larger, and he soon saw it was the Head of some person. It was facing the Tin Woodman and as the cupboard door swung back, the eyes of the Head slowly opened and looked at him. The Tin Woodman was not at all surprised, for in the Land of Oz one runs into magic at every turn.
“Dear me!” said the Tin Woodman, staring hard. “It seems as if I had met you, somewhere, before. Good morning, sir!”
“You have the advantage of me,” replied the Head. “I never saw you before in my life.”
“Still, your face is very familiar,” persisted the Tin Woodman. “Pardon me, but may I ask if you — eh — eh — if you ever had a Body?”
“Yes, at one time,” answered the Head, “but that is so long ago I can’t remember it. Did you think,” with a pleasant smile, “that I was born just as I am? That a Head would be created without a Body?”
“No, of course not,” said the other. “But how came you to lose your body?”
“Well, I can’t recollect the details; you’ll have to ask Ku-Klip about it,” returned the Head. “For, curious as it may seem to you, my memory is not good since my separation from the rest of me. I still possess my brains and my intellect is as good as ever, but my memory of some of the events I formerly experienced is quite hazy.”
“How long have you been in this cupboard?” asked the Emperor.
“I don’t know.”
“Haven’t you a name?”
“Oh, yes,” said the Head; “I used to be called Nick Chopper, when I was a woodman and cut down trees for a living.”
“Good gracious!” cried the Tin Woodman in astonishment. “If you are Nick Chopper’s Head, then you are Me — or I’m You — or — or — What relation are we, anyhow?”
“Don’t ask me,” replied the Head. “For my part, I’m not anxious to claim relationship with any common, manufactured article, like you. You may be all right in your class, but your class isn’t my class. You’re tin.”
The poor Emperor felt so bewildered that for a time he could only stare at his old Head in silence. Then he said:
“I must admit that I wasn’t at all bad looking before I became tin. You’re almost handsome — for meat. If your hair was combed, you’d be quite attractive.”
“How do you expect me to comb my hair without help?” demanded the Head, indignantly. “I used to keep it smooth and neat, when I had arms, but after I was removed from the rest of me, my hair got mussed, and old Ku-Klip never has combed it for me.”
“I’ll speak to him about it,” said the Tin Woodman. “Do you remember loving a pretty Munchkin girl named Nimmie Amee?”
“No,” answered the Head. “That is a foolish question. The heart in my body — when I had a body — might have loved someone, for all I know, but a head isn’t made to love; it’s made to think.”
“Oh; do you think, then?”
“I used to think.”
“You must have been shut up in this cupboard for years and years. What have you thought about, in all that time?”
“Nothing. That’s another foolish question. A little reflection will convince you that I have had nothing to think about, except the boards on the inside of the cupboard door, and it didn’t take me long to think of everything about those boards that could be thought of. Then, of course, I quit thinking.”
“And are you happy?”
“Happy? What’s that?”
“Don’t you know what happiness is?” inquired the Tin Woodman.
“I haven’t the faintest idea whether it’s round or square, or black or white, or what it is. And, if you will pardon my lack of interest in it, I will say that I don’t care.”
The Tin Woodman was much puzzled by these answers. His traveling companions had grouped themselves at his back, and had fixed their eyes on the Head and listened to the conversation with much interest, but until now, they had not interrupted because they thought the Tin Woodman had the best right to talk to his own head and renew acquaintance with it.
But now the Tin Soldier remarked:
“I wonder if my old head happens to be in any of these cupboards,” and he proceeded to open all the cupboard doors. But no other head was to be found on any of the shelves.
“Oh, well; never mind,” said Woot the Wanderer; “I can’t imagine what anyone wants of a cast-off head, anyhow.”
“I can understand the Soldier’s interest,” asserted Polychrome, dancing around the grimy workshop until her draperies formed a cloud around her dainty form. “For sentimental reasons a man might like to see his old head once more, just as one likes to revisit an old home.”
“And then to kiss it good-bye,” added the Scarecrow.
“I hope that tin thing won’t try to kiss me good- bye!” exclaimed the Tin Woodman’s former head. “And I don’t see what right you folks have to disturb my peace and comfort, either.”
“You belong to me,” the Tin Woodman declared.
“I do not!”
“You and I are one.”
“We’ve been parted,” asserted the Head. “It would be unnatural for me to have any interest in a man made of tin. Please close the door and leave me alone.”
“I did not think that my old Head could be so disagreeable,” said the Emperor. “I — I’m quite ashamed of myself; meaning you.”
“You ought to be glad that I’ve enough sense to know what my rights are,” retorted the Head. “In this cupboard I am leading a simple life, peaceful and dignified, and when a mob of people in whom I am not interested disturb me, they are the disagreeable ones; not I.”
With a sigh the Tin Woodman closed and latched the cupboard door and turned away.
“Well,” said the Tin Soldier, “if my old head would have treated me as coldly and in so unfriendly a manner as your old head has treated you, friend Chopper, I’m glad I could not find it.”
“Yes; I’m rather surprised at my head, myself,” replied the Tin Woodman, thoughtfully. “I thought I had a more pleasant disposition when I was made of meat.”
But just then old Ku-Klip the Tinsmith arrived, and he seemed surprised to find so many visitors. Ku-Klip was a stout man and a short man. He had his sleeves rolled above his elbows, showing muscular arms, and he wore a leathern apron that covered all the front of him, and was so long that Woot was surprised he didn’t step on it and trip whenever he walked. And Ku-Klip had a gray beard that was almost as long as his apron, and his head was bald on top and his ears stuck out from his head like two fans. Over his eyes, which were bright and twinkling, he wore big spectacles. It was easy to see that the tinsmith was a kind hearted man, as well as a merry and agreeable one. “Oh-ho!” he cried in a joyous bass voice; “here are both my tin men come to visit me, and they and their friends are welcome indeed. I’m very proud of you two characters, I assure you, for you are so perfect that you are proof that I’m a good workman. Sit down. Sit down, all of you — if you can find anything to sit on — and tell me why you are here.”
So they found seats and told him all of their adventures that they thought he would like to know. Ku- Klip was glad to learn that Nick Chopper, the Tin Woodman, was now Emperor of the Winkies and a friend of Ozma of Oz, and the tinsmith was also interested in the Scarecrow and Polychrome.
He turned the straw man around, examining him curiously, and patted him on all sides, and then said:
“You are certainly wonderful, but I think you would be more durable and steady on your legs if you were made of tin. Would you like me to –“
“No, indeed!” interrupted the Scarecrow hastily; “I like myself better as I am.”
But to Polychrome the tinsmith said:
“Nothing could improve you, my dear, for you are the most beautiful maiden I have ever seen. It is pure happiness just to look at you.”
“That is praise, indeed, from so skillful a workman,” returned the Rainbow’s Daughter, laughing and dancing in and out the room.
“Then it must be this boy you wish me to help,” said Ku-Klip, looking at Woot.
“No,” said Woot, “we are not here to seek your skill, but have merely come to you for information.”
Then, between them, they related their search for Nimmie Amee, whom the Tin Woodman explained he had resolved to marry, yet who had promised to become the bride of the Tin Soldier before he unfortunately became rusted. And when the story was told, they asked Ku-Klip if he knew what had become of Nimmie Amee.
“Not exactly,” replied the old man, “but I know that she wept bitterly when the Tin Soldier did not come to marry her, as he had promised to do. The old Witch was so provoked at the girl’s tears that she beat Nimmie Amee with her crooked stick and then hobbled away to gather some magic herbs, with which she intended to transform the girl into an old hag, so that no one would again love her or care to marry her. It was while she was away on this errand that Dorothy’s house fell on the Wicked Witch, and she turned to dust and blew away. When I heard this good news, I sent Nimmie Amee to find the Silver Shoes which the Witch had worn, but Dorothy had taken them with her to the Emerald City.”
“Yes, we know all about those Silver Shoes,” said the Scarecrow.
“Well,” continued Ku-Klip, “after that, Nimmie Amee decided to go away from the forest and live with some people she was acquainted with who had a house on Mount Munch. I have never seen the girl since.”
“Do you know the name of the people on Mount Munch, with whom she went to live?” asked the Tin Woodman.
“No, Nimmie Amee did not mention her friend’s name, and I did not ask her. She took with her all that she could carry of the goods that were in the Witch’s house, and she told me I could have the rest. But when I went there I found nothing worth taking except some magic powders that I did not know how to use, and a bottle of Magic Glue.”
“What is Magic Glue?” asked Woot.
“It is a magic preparation with which to mend people when they cut themselves. One time, long ago, I cut off one of my fingers by accident, and I carried it to the Witch, who took down her bottle and glued it on again for me. See!” showing them his finger, “it is as good as ever it was. No one else that I ever heard of had this Magic Glue, and of course when Nick Chopper cut himself to pieces with his enchanted axe and Captain Fyter cut himself to pieces with his enchanted sword, the Witch would not mend them, or allow me to glue them together, because she had herself wickedly enchanted the axe and sword. Nothing remained but for me to make them new parts out of tin; but, as you see, tin answered the purpose very well, and I am sure their tin bodies are a great improvement on their meat bodies.” “Very true,” said the Tin Soldier.
“I quite agree with you,” said the Tin Woodman. “I happened to find my old head in your cupboard, a while ago, and certainly it is not as desirable a head as the tin one I now wear.”
“By the way,” said the Tin Soldier, “what ever became of my old head, Ku-Klip?”
“And of the different parts of our bodies?” added the Tin Woodman.
“Let me think a minute,” replied Ku-Klip. “If I remember right, you two boys used to bring me most of your parts, when they were cut off, and I saved them in that barrel in the corner. You must not have brought me all the parts, for when I made Chopfyt I had hard work finding enough pieces to complete the job. I finally had to finish him with one arm.”
“Who is Chopfyt?”inquired Woot.
“Oh, haven’t I told you about Chopfyt?” exclaimed Ku- Klip. “Of course not! And he’s quite a curiosity, too. You’ll be interested in hearing about Chopfyt. This is how he happened:
“One day, after the Witch had been destroyed and Nimmie Amee had gone to live with her friends on Mount Munch, I was looking around the shop for something and came upon the bottle of Magic Glue which I had brought from the old Witch’s house. It occurred to me to piece together the odds and ends of you two people, which of course were just as good as ever, and see if I couldn’t make a man out of them. If I succeeded, I would have an assistant to help me with my work, and I thought it would be a clever idea to put to some practical use the scraps of Nick Chopper and Captain Fyter. There were two perfectly good heads in my cupboard, and a lot of feet and legs and parts of bodies in the barrel, so I set to work to see what I could do.
“First, I pieced together a body, gluing it with the Witch’s Magic Glue, which worked perfectly. That was the hardest part of my job, however, because the bodies didn’t match up well and some parts were missing. But by using a piece of Captain Fyter here and a piece of Nick Chopper there, I finally got together a very decent body, with heart and all the trimmings complete.”
“Whose heart did you use in making asked the Tin. Woodman anxiously. the body?”
“I can’t tell, for the parts had no tags on them and one heart looks much like another. After the body was completed, I glued two fine legs and feet onto it. One leg was Nick Chopper’s and one was Captain Fyter’s and, finding one leg longer than the other, I trimmed it down to make them match. I was much disappointed to find that I had but one arm. There was an extra leg in the barrel, but I could find only one arm. Having glued this onto the body, I was ready for the head, and I had some difficulty in making up my mind which head to use. Finally I shut my eyes and reached out my hand toward the cupboard shelf, and the first head I touched I glued upon my new man.”
“It was mine!” declared the Tin Soldier, gloomily.
“No, it was mine,” asserted Ku-Klip, “for I had given you another in exchange for it — the beautiful tin head you now wear. When the glue had dried, my man was quite an interesting fellow. I named him Chopfyt, using a part of Nick Chopper’s name and a part of Captain Fyter’s name, because he was a mixture of both your cast-off parts. Chopfyt was interesting, as I said, but he did not prove a very agreeable companion. He complained bitterly because I had given him but one arm — as if it were my fault! — and he grumbled because the suit of blue Munchkin clothes, which I got for him from a neighbor, did not fit him perfectly.”
“Ah, that was because he was wearing my old head,” remarked the Tin Soldier. “I remember that head used to be very particular about its clothes.”
“As an assistant,” the old tinsmith continued, “Chopfyt was not a success. He was awkward with tools and was always hungry. He demanded something to eat six or eight times a day, so I wondered if I had fitted his insides properly. Indeed, Chopfyt ate so much that little food was left for myself; so, when he proposed, one day, to go out into the world and seek adventures, I was delighted to be rid of him. I even made him a tin arm to take the place of the missing one, and that pleased him very much, so that we parted good friends.”
“What became of Chopfyt after that?” the Scarecrow inquired.
“I never heard. He started off toward the east, into the plains of the Munchkin Country, and that was the last I ever saw of him.”
“It seems to me,” said the Tin Woodman reflectively, “that you did wrong in making a man out of our cast-off parts. It is evident that Chopfyt could, with justice, claim relationship with both of us.”
“Don’t worry about that,” advised Ku-Klip cheerfully; “it is not likely that you will ever meet the fellow. And, if you should meet him, he doesn’t know who he is made of, for I never told him the secret of his manufacture. Indeed, you are the only ones who know of it, and you may keep the secret to yourselves, if you wish to.”
“Never mind Chopfyt,” said the Scarecrow. “Our business now is to find poor Nimmie Amee and let her choose her tin husband. To do that, it seems, from the information Ku-Klip has given us, we must travel to Mount Munch.”
“If that’s the programme, let us start at once,” suggested Woot.
So they all went outside, where they found Polychrome dancing about among the trees and talking with the birds and laughing as merrily as if she had not lost her Rainbow and so been separated from all her fairy sisters.
They told her they were going to Mount Munch, and she replied:
“Very well; I am as likely to find my Rainbow there as here, and any other place is as likely as there. It all depends on the weather. Do you think it looks like rain?”
They shook their heads, and Polychrome laughed again and danced on after them when they resumed their journey.
Chapter Nineteen
The Invisible Country
They were proceeding so easily and comfortably on their way to Mount Munch that Woot said in a serious tone of voice:
“I’m afraid something is going to happen.”
“Why?” asked Polychrome, dancing around the group of travelers.
“Because,” said the boy, thoughtfully, “I’ve noticed that when we have the least reason for getting into trouble, something is sure to go wrong. Just now the weather is delightful; the grass is beautifully blue and quite soft to our feet; the mountain we are seeking shows clearly in the distance and there is no reason anything should happen to delay us in getting there. Our troubles all seem to be over, and — well, that’s why I’m afraid,” he added, with a sigh.
“Dear me!” remarked the Scarecrow, “what unhappy thoughts you have, to be sure. This is proof that born brains cannot equal manufactured brains, for my brains dwell only on facts and never borrow trouble. When there is occasion for my brains to think, they think, but I would be ashamed of my brains if they kept shooting out thoughts that were merely fears and imaginings, such as do no good, but are likely to do harm.”
“For my part,” said the Tin Woodman, “I do not think at all, but allow my velvet heart to guide me at all times.”
“The tinsmith filled my hollow head with scraps and clippings of tin,” said the Soldier, “and he told me they would do nicely for brains, but when I begin to think, the tin scraps rattle around and get so mixed that I’m soon bewildered. So I try not to think. My tin heart is almost as useless to me, for it is hard and cold, so I’m sure the red velvet heart of my friend Nick Chopper is a better guide.”
“Thoughtless people are not unusual,” observed the Scarecrow, “but I consider them more fortunate than those who have useless or wicked thoughts and do not try to curb them. Your oil can, friend Woodman, is filled with oil, but you only apply the oil to your joints, drop by drop, as you need it, and do not keep spilling it where it will do no good. Thoughts should be restrained in the same way as your oil, and only applied when necessary, and for a good purpose. If used carefully, thoughts are good things to have.”
Polychrome laughed at him, for the Rainbow’s Daughter knew more about thoughts than the Scarecrow did. But the others were solemn, feeling they had been rebuked, and tramped on in silence.
Suddenly Woot, who was in the lead, looked around and found that all his comrades had mysteriously disappeared. But where could they have gone to? The broad plain was all about him and there were neither trees nor bushes that could hide even a rabbit, nor any hole for one to fall into. Yet there he stood, alone.
Surprise had caused him to halt, and with a thoughtful and puzzled expression on his face he looked down at his feet. It startled him anew to discover that he had no feet. He reached out his hands, but he could not see them. He could feel his hands and arms and body; he stamped his feet on the grass and knew they were there, but in some strange way they had become invisible.
While Woot stood, wondering, a crash of metal sounded in his ears and he heard two heavy bodies tumble to the earth just beside him.
“Good gracious!” exclaimed the voice of the Tin Woodman.
“Mercy me!” cried the voice of the Tin Soldier.
“Why didn’t you look where you were going?” asked the Tin Woodman reproachfully.
“I did, but I couldn’t see you,” said the Tin Soldier. “Something has happened to my tin eyes. I can’t see you, even now, nor can I see anyone else!”
“It’s the same way with me,” admitted the Tin Woodman.
Woot couldn’t see either of them, although he heard them plainly, and just then something smashed against him unexpectedly and knocked him over; but it was only the straw-stuffed body of the Scarecrow that fell upon him and while he could not see the Scarecrow he managed to push him off and rose to his feet just as Polychrome whirled against him and made him tumble again.
Sitting upon the ground, the boy asked:
“Can you see us, Poly?”
“No, indeed,” answered the Rainbow’s Daughter; “we’ve all become invisible.”
“How did it happen, do you suppose?” inquired the Scarecrow, lying where he had fallen.
“We have met with no enemy,” answered Poly-chrome, “so it must be that this part of the country has the magic quality of making people invisible –even fairies falling under the charm. We can see the grass, and the flowers, and the stretch of plain before us, and we can still see Mount Munch in the distance; but we cannot see ourselves or one another.”
“Well, what are we to do about it?” demanded Woot.
“I think this magic affects only a small part of the plain,” replied Polychrome; “perhaps there is only a streak of the country where an enchantment makes people become invisible. So, if we get together and hold hands, we can travel toward Mount Munch until the enchanted streak is passed.”
“All right,” said Woot, jumping up, “give me your hand, Polychrome. Where are you?”
“Here,” she answered. “Whistle, Woot, and keep whistling until I come to you.”
So Woot whistled, and presently Polychrome found him and grasped his hand.
“Someone must help me up,” said the Scarecrow, lying near them; so they found the straw man and sat him upon his feet, after which he held fast to Polychrome’s other hand.
Nick Chopper and the Tin Soldier had managed to scramble up without assistance, but it was awkward for them and the Tin Woodman said:
“I don’t seem to stand straight, somehow. But my joints all work, so I guess I can walk.”
Guided by his voice, they reached his side, where Woot grasped his tin fingers so they might keep together.
The Tin Soldier was standing near by and the Scarecrow soon touched him and took hold of his arm.
“I hope you’re not wobbly,” said the straw man, “for if two of us walk unsteadily we will be sure to fall.”
“I’m not wobbly,” the Tin Soldier assured him, “but I’m certain that one of my legs is shorter than the other. I can’t see it, to tell what’s gone wrong, but I’ll limp on with the rest of you until we are out of this enchanted territory.”
They now formed a line, holding hands, and turning their faces toward Mount Munch resumed their journey. They had not gone far, however, when a terrible growl saluted their ears. The sound seemed to come from a place just in front of them, so they halted abruptly and remained silent, listening with all their ears.
“I smell straw!” cried a hoarse, harsh voice, with more growls and snarls. “I smell straw, and I’m a Hip-po-gy-raf who loves straw and eats all he can find. I want to eat this straw! Where is it? Where is it?”
The Scarecrow, hearing this, trembled but kept silent. All the others were silent, too, hoping that the invisible beast would be unable to find them. But the creature sniffed the odor of the straw and drew nearer and nearer to them until he reached the Tin Woodman, on one end of the line. It was a big beast and it smelled of the Tin Woodman and grated two rows of enormous teeth against the Emperor’s tin body.
“Bah! that’s not straw,” said the harsh voice, and the beast advanced along the line to Woot.
“Meat! Pooh, you’re no good! I can’t eat meat,” grumbled the beast, and passed on to Polychrome.
“Sweetmeats and perfume — cobwebs and dew! Nothing to eat in a fairy like you,” said the creature.
Now, the Scarecrow was next to Polychrome in the line, and he realized if the beast devoured his straw he would be helpless for a long time, because the last farmhouse was far behind them and only grass covered the vast expanse of plain. So in his fright he let go of Polychrome’s hand and put the hand of the Tin Soldier in that of the Rainbow’s Daughter. Then he slipped back of the line and went to the other end, where he silently seized the Tin Woodman’s hand.
Meantime, the beast had smelled the Tin Soldier and found he was the last of the line.
“That’s funny!” growled the Hip-po-gy-raf; “I can smell straw, but I can’t find it. Well, it’s here, somewhere, and I must hunt around until I do find it, for I’m hungry.”
His voice was now at the left of them, so they started on, hoping to avoid him, and traveled as fast as they could in the direction of Mount Munch.
“I don’t like this invisible country,” said Woot with a shudder. “We can’t tell how many dreadful, invisible beasts are roaming around us, or what danger we’ll come to next.”
“Quit thinking about danger, please,” said the Scarecrow, warningly.
“Why?” asked the boy.
“If you think of some dreadful thing, it’s liable to happen, but if you don’t think of it, and no one else thinks of it, it just can’t happen. Do you see?”
“No,” answered Woot. “I won’t be able to see much of anything until we escape from this enchantment.”
But they got out of the invisible strip of country as suddenly as they had entered it, and the instant they got out they stopped short, for just before them was a deep ditch, running at right angles as far as their eyes could see and stopping all further progress toward Mount Munch.
“It’s not so very wide,” said Woot, “but I’m sure none of us can jump across it.”
Polychrome began to laugh, and the Scarecrow said: “What’s the matter?”
“Look at the tin men!” she said, with another burst of merry laughter.
Woot and the Scarecrow looked, and the tin men looked at themselves.
“It was the collision,” said the Tin Woodman regretfully. “I knew something was wrong with me, and now I can see that my side is dented in so that I lean over toward the left. It was the Soldier’s fault; he shouldn’t have been so careless.”
“It is your fault that my right leg is bent, making it shorter than the other, so that I limp badly,” retorted the Soldier. “You shouldn’t have stood where I was walking.”
“You shouldn’t have walked where I was standing,” replied the Tin Woodman.
It was almost a quarrel, so Polychrome said soothingly:
“Never mind, friends; as soon as we have time I am sure we can straighten the Soldier’s leg and get the dent out of the Woodman’s body. The Scarecrow needs patting into shape, too, for he had a bad tumble, but our first task is to get over this ditch.”
“Yes, the ditch is the most important thing, just now,” added Woot
They were standing in a row, looking hard at the unexpected barrier, when a fierce growl from behind them made them all turn quickly. Out of the invisible country marched a huge beast with a thick, leathery skin and a surprisingly long neck. The head on the top of this neck was broad and flat and the eyes and mouth were very big and the nose and ears very small. When the head was drawn down toward the beast’s shoulders, the neck was all wrinkles, but the head could shoot up very high indeed, if the creature wished it to.
“Dear me!” exclaimed the Scarecrow, “this must be the Hip-po-gy-raf.”
“Quite right,” said the beast; “and you’re the straw which I’m to eat for my dinner. Oh, how I love straw! I hope you don’t resent my affectionate appetite?”
With its four great legs it advanced straight toward the Scarecrow, but the Tin Woodman and the Tin Soldier both sprang in front of their friend and flourished their weapons.
“Keep off!” said the Tin Woodman, warningly, or I’ll chop you with my axe.”
“Keep off!” said the Tin Soldier, “or I’ll cut you with my sword.”
“Would you really do that?” asked the Hip-po-gy-raf, in a disappointed voice.
“We would,” they both replied, and the Tin Woodman added: “The Scarecrow is our friend, and he would be useless without his straw stuffing. So, as we are comrades, faithful and true, we will defend our friend’s stuffing against all enemies.”
The Hip-po-gy-raf sat down and looked at them sorrowfully.
“When one has made up his mind to have a meal of delicious straw, and then finds he can’t have it, it is certainly hard luck,” he said. “And what good is the straw man to you, or to himself, when the ditch keeps you from going any further?”
“Well, we can go back again,” suggested Woot.
“True,” said the Hip-po; “and if you do, you’ll be as disappointed as I am. That’s some comfort, anyhow.”
The travelers looked at the beast, and then they looked across the ditch at the level plain beyond. On the other side the grass had grown tall, and the sun had dried it, so there was a fine crop of hay that only needed to be cut and stacked.
“Why don’t you cross over and eat hay?” the boy asked the beast.
“I’m not fond of hay,” replied the Hip-po-gy-raf; “straw is much more delicious, to my notion, and it’s more scarce in this neighborhood, too. Also I must confess that I can’t get across the ditch, for my body is too heavy and clumsy for me to jump the distance. I can stretch my neck across, though, and you will notice that I’ve nibbled the hay on the farther edge — not because I liked it, but because one must eat, and if one can’t get the sort of food he desires, he must take what is offered or go hungry.”
“Ah, I see you are a philosopher,” remarked the Scarecrow.
“No, I’m just a Hip-po-gy-raf,” was the reply.
Polychrome was not afraid of the big beast. She danced close to him and said:
“If you can stretch your neck across the ditch, why not help us over? We can sit on your big head, one at a time, and then you can lift us across.”
“Yes; I can, it is true,” answered the Hip-po; “but I refuse to do it. Unless –” he added, and stopped short.
“Unless what?” asked Polychrome.
“Unless you first allow me to eat the straw with which the Scarecrow is stuffed.”
“No,” said the Rainbow’s Daughter, “that is too high a price to pay. Our friend’s straw is nice and fresh, for he was restuffed only a little while ago.”
“I know,” agreed the Hip-po-gy-raf. “That’s why I want it. If it was old, musty straw, I wouldn’t care for it.”
“Please lift us across,” pleaded Polychrome.
“No,” replied the beast; “since you refuse my generous offer, I can be as stubborn as you are.”
After that they were all silent for a time, but then the Scarecrow said bravely:
“Friends, let us agree to the beast’s terms. Give him my straw, and carry the rest of me with you across the ditch. Once on the other side, the Tin Soldier can cut some of the hay with his sharp sword, and you can stuff me with that material until we reach a place where there is straw. It is true I have been stuffed with straw all my life and it will be somewhat humiliating to be filled with common hay, but I am willing to sacrifice my pride in a good cause. Moreover, to abandon our errand and so deprive the great Emperor of the Winkies — or this noble Soldier — of his bride, would be equally humiliating, if not more so.”
“You’re a very honest and clever man!” exclaimed the Hip-po-gy-raf, admiringly. “When I have eaten your head, perhaps I also will become clever.”
“You’re not to eat my head, you know,” returned the Scarecrow hastily. “My head isn’t stuffed with straw and I cannot part with it. When one loses his head he loses his brains.”
“Very well, then; you may keep your head,” said the beast.
The Scarecrow’s companions thanked him warmly for his loyal sacrifice to their mutual good, and then he laid down and permitted them to pull the straw from his body. As fast as they did this, the Hip-po-gy-raf ate up the straw, and when all was consumed Polychrome made a neat bundle of the clothes and boots and gloves and hat and said she would carry them, while Woot tucked the Scarecrow’s head under his arm and promised to guard its safety.
“Now, then,” said the Tin Woodman, “keep your promise, Beast, and lift us over the ditch.”
“M-m-m-mum, but that was a fine dinner!” said the Hip-po, smacking his thick lips in satisfaction, “and I’m as good as my word. Sit on my head, one at a time, and I’ll land you safely on the other side.”
He approached close to the edge of the ditch and squatted down. Polychrome climbed over his big body and sat herself lightly upon the flat head, holding the bundle of the Scarecrow’s raiment in her hand. Slowly the elastic neck stretched out until it reached the far side of the ditch, when the beast lowered his head and permitted the beautiful fairy to leap to the ground.
Woot made the queer journey next, and then the Tin Soldier and the Tin Woodman went over, and all were well pleased to have overcome this serious barrier to their progress.
“Now, Soldier, cut the hay,” said the Scarecrow’s head, which was still held by Woot the Wanderer.
“I’d like to, but I can’t stoop over, with my bent leg, without falling,” replied Captain Fyter.
“What can we do about that leg, anyhow?” asked Woot, appealing to Polychrome.
She danced around in a circle several times without replying, and the boy feared she had not heard him; but the Rainbow’s Daughter was merely thinking upon the problem, and presently she paused beside the Tin Soldier and said:
“I’ve been taught a little fairy magic, but I’ve never before been asked to mend tin legs with it, so I’m not sure I can help you. It all depends on the good will of my unseen fairy guardians, so I’ll try, and if I fail, you will be no worse off than you are now.”
She danced around the circle again, and then laid both hands upon the twisted tin leg and sang in her sweet voice:
“Fairy Powers, come to my aid!
This bent leg of tin is made;
Make it straight and strong and true,
And I’ll render thanks to you.”
“Ah!” murmured Captain Fyter in a glad voice, as she withdrew her hands and danced away, and they saw he was standing straight as ever, because his leg was as shapely and strong as it had been before his accident.
The Tin Woodman had watched Polychrome with much interest, and he now said:
“Please take the dent out of my side, Poly, for I am more crippled than was the Soldier.”
So the Rainbow’s Daughter touched his side lightly and sang:
“Here’s a dent by accident;
Such a thing was never meant.
Fairy Powers, so wondrous great,
Make our dear Tin Woodman straight!”
“Good!” cried the Emperor, again standing erect and strutting around to show his fine figure. “Your fairy magic may not be able to accomplish all things, sweet Polychrome, but it works splendidly on tin. Thank you very much.”
“The hay — the hay!” pleaded the Scarecrow’s head.
“Oh, yes; the hay,” said Woot. “What are you waiting for, Captain Fyter?”
At once the Tin Soldier set to work cutting hay with his sword and in a few minutes there was quite enough with which to stuff the Scarecrow’s body. Woot and Polychrome did this and it was no easy task because the hay packed together more than straw and as they had little experience in such work their job, when completed, left the Scarecrow’s arms and legs rather bunchy. Also there was a hump on his back which made Woot laugh and say it reminded him of a camel, but it was the best they could do and when the head was fastened on to the body they asked the Scarecrow how he felt.
“A little heavy, and not quite natural,” he cheerfully replied; “but I’ll get along somehow until we reach a straw-stack. Don’t laugh at me, please, because I’m a little ashamed of myself and I don’t want to regret a good action.”
They started at once in the direction of Mount Munch, and as the Scarecrow proved very clumsy in his movements, Woot took one of his arms and the Tin Woodman the other and so helped their friend to walk in a straight line.
And the Rainbow’s Daughter, as before, danced ahead of them and behind them and all around them, and they never minded her odd ways, because to them she was like a ray of sunshine.
Chapter Twenty
Over Night
The Land of the Munchkins is full of surprises, as our travelers had already learned, and although Mount Munch was constantly growing larger as they advanced toward it, they knew it was still a long way off and were not certain, by any means, that they had escaped all danger or encountered their last adventure.
The plain was broad, and as far as the eye could see, there seemed to be a level stretch of country between them and the mountain, but toward evening they came upon a hollow, in which stood a tiny blue Munchkin dwelling with a garden around it and fields of grain filling in all the rest of the hollow.
They did not discover this place until they came close to the edge of it, and they were astonished at the sight that greeted them because they had imagined that this part of the plain had no inhabitants.
“It’s a very small house,” Woot declared. “I wonder who lives there?”
“The way to find out is to knock on the door and ask,” replied the Tin Woodman. “Perhaps it is the home of Nimmie Amee.”
“Is she a dwarf?” asked the boy.
“No, indeed; Nimmie Amee is a full sized woman.”
“Then I’m sure she couldn’t live in that little house,” said Woot.
“Let’s go down,” suggested the Scarecrow. “I’m almost sure I can see a straw-stack in the back yard.”
They descended the hollow, which was rather steep at the sides, and soon came to the house, which was indeed rather small. Woot knocked upon a door that was not much higher than his waist, but got no reply. He knocked again, but not a sound was heard.
“Smoke is coming out of the chimney,” announced Polychrome, who was dancing lightly through the garden, where cabbages and beets and turnips and the like were growing finely
“Then someone surely lives here,” said Woot, and knocked again.
Now a window at the side of the house opened and a queer head appeared. It was white and hairy and had a long snout and little round eyes. The ears were hidden by a blue sunbonnet tied under the chin.
“Oh; it’s a pig!” exclaimed Woot.
“Pardon me; I am Mrs. Squealina Swyne, wife of Professor Grunter Swyne, and this is our home,” said the one in the window. “What do you want?”
“What sort of a Professor is your husband?” inquired the Tin Woodman curiously.
“He is Professor of Cabbage Culture and Corn Perfection. He is very famous in his own family, and would be the wonder of the world if he went abroad,” said Mrs. Swyne in a voice that was half proud and half irritable. “I must also inform you intruders that the Professor is a dangerous individual, for he files his teeth every morning until they are sharp as needles. If you are butchers, you’d better run away and avoid trouble.”
“We are not butchers,” the Tin Woodman assured her.
“Then what are you doing with that axe? And why has the other tin man a sword?”
“They are the only weapons we have to defend our friends from their enemies,” explained the Emperor of the Winkies, and Woot added:
“Do not be afraid of us, Mrs. Swyne, for we are harmless travelers. The tin men and the Scarecrow never eat anything and Polychrome feasts only on dewdrops. As for me, I’m rather hungry, but there is plenty of food in your garden to satisfy me.”
Professor Swyne now joined his wife at the window, looking rather scared in spite of the boy’s assuring speech. He wore a blue Munchkin hat, with pointed crown and broad brim, and big spectacles covered his eyes. He peeked around from behind his wife and after looking hard at the strangers, he said:
“My wisdom assures me that you are merely travelers, as you say, and not butchers. Butchers have reason to be afraid of me, but you are safe. We cannot invite you in, for you are too big for our house, but the boy who eats is welcome to all the carrots and turnips he wants. Make yourselves at home in the garden and stay all night, if you like; but in the morning you must go away, for we are quiet people and do not care for company.”
“May I have some of your straw?” asked the Scarecrow.
“Help yourself,” replied Professor Swyne.
“For pigs, they’re quite respectable,” remarked Woot, as they all went toward the straw-stack.
“I’m glad they didn’t invite us in,” said Captain Fyter. “I hope I’m not too particular about my associates, but I draw the line at pigs.”
The Scarecrow was glad to be rid of his hay, for during the long walk it had sagged down and made him fat and squatty and more bumpy than at first.
“I’m not specially proud,” he said, “but I love a manly figure, such as only straw stuffing can create. I’ve not felt like myself since that hungry Hip-po ate my last straw.”
Polychrome and Woot set to work removing the hay and then they selected the finest straw, crisp and golden, and with it stuffed the Scarecrow anew. He certainly looked better after the operation, and he was so pleased at being reformed that he tried to dance a little jig, and almost succeeded.
“I shall sleep under the straw-stack tonight,” Woot decided, after he had eaten some of the vegetables from the garden, and in fact he slept very well, with the two tin men and the Scarecrow sitting silently beside him and Polychrome away somewhere in the moonlight dancing her fairy dances.
At daybreak the Tin Woodman and the Tin Soldier took occasion to polish their bodies and oil their joints, for both were exceedingly careful of their personal appearance. They had forgotten the quarrel due to their accidental bumping of one another in the invisible country, and being now good friends the Tin Woodman polished the Tin Soldier’s back for him and then the Tin Soldier polished the Tin Woodman’s back.
For breakfast the Wanderer ate crisp lettuce and radishes, and the Rainbow’s Daughter, who had now returned to her friends, sipped the dewdrops that had formed on the petals of the wild-flowers.
As they passed the little house to renew their journey, Woot called out:
“Good-bye, Mr. and Mrs. Swyne!”
The window opened and the two pigs looked out.
“A pleasant journey,” said the Professor.
“Have you any children?” asked the Scarecrow, who was a great friend of children.
“We have nine,” answered the Professor; “but they do not live with us, for when they were tiny piglets the Wizard of Oz came here and offered to care for them and to educate them. So we let him have our nine tiny piglets, for he’s a good Wizard and can be relied upon to keep his promises.”
“I know the Nine Tiny Piglets,” said the Tin Woodman.
“So do I,” said the Scarecrow. “They still live in the Emerald City, and the Wizard takes good care of them and teaches them to do all sorts of tricks.”
“Did they ever grow up?” inquired Mrs. Squealina Swyne, in an anxious voice.
“No,” answered the Scarecrow; “like all other children in the Land of Oz, they will always remain children, and in the case of the tiny piglets that is a good thing, because they would not be nearly so cute and cunning if they were bigger.”
“But are they happy?” asked Mrs. Swyne.
“Everyone in the Emerald City is happy,” said the Tin Woodman. “They can’t help it.”
Then the travelers said good-bye, and climbed the side of the basin that was toward Mount Munch.
Chapter Twenty-One
Polychrome’s Magic
On this morning, which ought to be the last of this important journey, our friends started away as bright and cheery as could be, and Woot whistled a merry tune so that Polychrome could dance to the music.
On reaching the top of the hill, the plain spread out before them in all its beauty of blue grasses and wildflowers, and Mount Munch seemed much nearer than it had the previous evening. They trudged on at a brisk pace, and by noon the mountain was so close that they could admire its appearance. Its slopes were partly clothed with pretty evergreens, and its foot-hills were tufted with a slender waving bluegrass that had a tassel on the end of every blade. And, for the first time, they perceived, near the foot of the mountain, a charming house, not of great size but neatly painted and with many flowers surrounding it and vines climbing over the doors and windows.
It was toward this solitary house that our travelers now directed their steps, thinking to inquire of the people who lived there where Nimmie Amee might be found.
There were no paths, but the way was quite open and clear, and they were drawing near to the dwelling when Woot the Wanderer, who was then in the lead of the little party, halted with such an abrupt jerk that he stumbled over backward and lay flat on his back in the meadow. The Scarecrow stopped to look at the boy.
“Why did you do that?” he asked in surprise.
Woot sat up and gazed around him in amazement.
“I — I don’t know!” he replied.
The two tin men, arm in arm, started to pass them when both halted and tumbled, with a great clatter, into a heap beside Woot. Polychrome, laughing at the absurd sight, came dancing up and she, also, came to a sudden stop, but managed to save herself from falling.
Everyone of them was much astonished, and the Scarecrow said with a puzzled look:
“I don’t see anything.”
“Nor I,” said Woot; “but something hit me, just the same.”
“Some invisible person struck me a heavy blow,” declared the Tin Woodman, struggling to separate himself from the Tin Soldier, whose legs and arms were mixed with his own.
“I’m not sure it was a person,” said Polychrome, looking more grave than usual. “It seems to me that I merely ran into some hard substance which barred my way. In order to make sure of this, let me try another place.”
She ran back a way and then with much caution advanced in a different place, but when she reached a position on a line with the others she halted, her arms outstretched before her.
“I can feel something hard – something smooth as glass,” she said, “but I’m sure it is not glass.”
“Let me try,” suggested Woot, getting up; but when he tried to go forward, he discovered the same barrier that Polychrome had encountered.
“No,” he said, “it isn’t glass. But what is it?”
“Air,” replied a small voice beside him. “Solid air; that’s all.”
They all looked downward and found a sky-blue rabbit had stuck his head out of a burrow in the ground. The rabbit’s eyes were a deeper blue than his fur, and the pretty creature seemed friendly and unafraid.
“Air!” exclaimed Woot, staring in astonishment into the rabbit’s blue eyes; “whoever heard of air so solid that one cannot push it aside?”
“You can’t push this air aside,” declared the rabbit, “for it was made hard by powerful sorcery, and it forms a wall that is intended to keep people from getting to that house yonder.”
“Oh; it’s a wall, is it?” said the Tin Woodman.
“Yes, it is really a wall,” answered the rabbit, “and it is fully six feet thick.”
“How high is it?” inquired Captain Fyter, the Tin Soldier.
“Oh, ever so high; perhaps a mile,” said the rabbit.
“Couldn’t we go around it?” asked Woot.
“Of course, for the wall is a circle,” explained the rabbit. “In the center of the circle stands the house, so you may walk around the Wall of Solid Air, but you can’t get to the house.”
“Who put the air wall around the house?” was the Scarecrow’s question.
“Nimmie Amee did that.”
“Nimmie Amee!” they all exclaimed in surprise.
“Yes,” answered the rabbit. “She used to live with an old Witch, who was suddenly destroyed, and when Nimmie Amee ran away from the Witch’s house, she took with her just one magic formula –pure sorcery it was — which enabled her to build this air wall around her house — the house yonder. It was quite a clever idea, I think, for it doesn’t mar the beauty of the landscape, solid air being invisible, and yet it keeps all strangers away from the house.”
“Does Nimmie Amee live there now?” asked the Tin Woodman anxiously.
“Yes, indeed,” said the rabbit.
“And does she weep and wail from morning till night?” continued the Emperor.
“No; she seems quite happy,” asserted the rabbit.
The Tin Woodman seemed quite disappointed to hear this report of his old sweetheart, but the Scarecrow reassured his friend, saying:
“Never mind, your Majesty; however happy Nimmie Amee is now, I’m sure she will be much happier as Empress of the Winkies.”
“Perhaps,” said Captain Fyter, somewhat stiffly, “she will be still more happy to become the bride of a Tin Soldier.”
“She shall choose between us, as we have agreed,” the Tin Woodman promised; “but how shall we get to the poor girl?”
Polychrome, although dancing lightly back and forth, had listened to every word of the conversation. Now she came forward and sat herself down just in front of the Blue Rabbit, her many-hued draperies giving her the appearance of some beautiful flower. The rabbit didn’t back away an inch. Instead, he gazed at the Rainbow’s Daughter admiringly.
“Does your burrow go underneath this Wall of Air?” asked Polychrome.
“To be sure,” answered the Blue Rabbit; “I dug it that way so I could roam in these broad fields, by going out one way, or eat the cabbages in Nimmie Amee’s garden by leaving my burrow at the other end. I don’t think Nimmie Amee ought to mind the little I take from her garden, or the hole I’ve made under her magic wall. A rabbit may go and come as he pleases, but no one who is bigger than I am could get through my burrow.”
“Will you allow us to pass through it, if we are able to? ” inquired Polychrome.
“Yes, indeed,” answered the Blue Rabbit. “I’m no especial friend of Nimmie Amee, for once she threw stones at me, just because I was nibbling some lettuce, and only yesterday she yelled ‘Shoo!’ at me, which made me nervous. You’re welcome to use my burrow in any way you choose.”
“But this is all nonsense!” declared Woot the Wanderer. “We are every one too big to crawl through a rabbit’s burrow.”
“We are too big now,” agreed the Scarecrow, “but you must remember that Polychrome is a fairy, and fairies have many magic powers.”
Woot’s face brightened as he turned to the lovely Daughter of the Rainbow.
“Could you make us all as small as that rabbit?” he asked eagerly.
“I can try,” answered Polychrome, with a smile. And presently she did it — so easily that Woot was not the only one astonished. As the now tiny people grouped themselves before the rabbit’s burrow the hole appeared to them like the entrance to a tunnel, which indeed it was.
“I’ll go first,” said wee Polychrome, who had made herself grow as small as the others, and into the tunnel she danced without hesitation. A tiny Scarecrow went next and then the two funny little tin men.
“Walk in; it’s your turn,” said the Blue Rabbit to Woot the Wanderer. “I’m coming after, to see how you get along. This will be a regular surprise party to Nimmie Amee.”
So Woot entered the hole and felt his way along its smooth sides in the dark until he finally saw the glimmer of daylight ahead and knew the journey was almost over. Had he remained his natural size, the distance could have been covered in a few steps, but to a thumb-high Woot it was quite a promenade. When he emerged from the burrow he found himself but a short distance from the house, in the center of the vegetable garden, where the leaves of rhubarb waving above his head seemed like trees. Outside the hole, and waiting for him, he found all his friends.
“So far, so good!” remarked the Scarecrow cheerfully.
“Yes; so far, but no farther,” returned the Tin Woodman in a plaintive and disturbed tone of voice. “I am now close to Nimmie Amee, whom I have come ever so far to seek, but I cannot ask the girl to marry such a little man as I am now.”
“I’m no bigger than a toy soldier!” said Captain Fyter, sorrowfully. “Unless Polychrome can make us big again, there is little use in our visiting Nimmie Amee at all, for I’m sure she wouldn’t care for a husband she might carelessly step on and ruin.”
Polychrome laughed merrily.
“If I make you big, you can’t get out of here again,” said she, “and if you remain little Nimmie Amee will laugh at you. So make your choice.”
“I think we’d better go back,” said Woot seriously
“No,” said the Tin Woodman, stoutly, “I have decided that it’s my duty to make Nimmie Amee happy, in case she wishes to marry me.”
“So have I,” announced Captain Fyter. “A good soldier never shrinks from doing his duty.”
“As for that,” said the Scarecrow, “tin doesn’t shrink any to speak of, under any circumstances. But Woot and I intend to stick to our comrades, whatever they decide to do, so we will ask Polychrome to make us as big as we were before.”
Polychrome agreed to this request and in half a minute all of them, including herself, had been enlarged again to their natural sizes. They then thanked the Blue Rabbit for his kind assistance, and at once approached the house of Nimme Amee.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nimmie Amee
We may be sure that at this moment our friends were all anxious to see the end of the adventure that had caused them so many trials and troubles. Perhaps the Tin Woodman’s heart did not beat any faster, because it was made of red velvet and stuffed with sawdust, and the Tin Soldier’s heart was made of tin and reposed in his tin bosom without a hint of emotion. However, there is little doubt that they both knew that a critical moment in their lives had arrived, and that Nimmie Amee’s decision was destined to influence the future of one or the other.
As they assumed their natural sizes and the rhubarb leaves that had before towered above their heads now barely covered their feet, they looked around the garden and found that no person was visible save themselves. No sound of activity came from the house, either, but they walked to the front door, which had a little porch built before it, and there the two tinmen stood side by side while both knocked upon the door with their tin knuckles.
As no one seemed eager to answer the summons they knocked again; and then again. Finally they heard a stir from within and someone coughed.
“Who’s there?” called a girl’s voice.
“It’s I!” cried the tin twins, together.
“How did you get there?” asked the voice.
They hesitated how to reply, so Woot answered for them:
“By means of magic.”
“Oh,” said the unseen girl. “Are you friends, or foes?”
“Friends!” they all exclaimed.