The Patchwork Girl of Oz
by
L. Frank Baum
Part 3 out of 5
"Can't say. Tastes differ, you know," replied
the Shaggy Man, yawning again. "But here's a
pointer that may be of service to you: make
friends with Eureka and you'll be solid at the
palace."
"I'm solid now; solid glass."
"You don't understand," rejoined the Shaggy
Man, sleepily. "Anyhow, make friends with the
Pink Kitten and you'll be all right. If the Pink
Kitten despises you, look out for breakers."
"Would anyone at the royal palace break a
Glass Cat?"
"Might. You never can tell. Advise you to purr
soft and look humble--if you can. And now I'm
going to bed."
Bungle considered the Shaggy Man's advice
so carefully that her pink brains were busy long
after the others of the party were fast asleep.
Chapter Twelve
The Giant Porcupine
Next morning they started out bright and early to
follow the road of yellow bricks toward the
Emerald City. The little Munchkin boy was
beginning to feel tired from the long walk, and he
had a great many things to think of and consider
besides the events of the journey. At the
wonderful Emerald City, which he would presently
reach, were so many strange and curious people
that he was half afraid of meeting them and
wondered if they would prove friendly and kind.
Above all else, he could not drive from his mind
the important errand on which he had come, and he
was determined to devote every energy to finding
the things that were necessary to prepare
the magic recipe. He believed that until dear
Unc Nunkie was restored to life he could feel
no joy in anything, and often he wished that
Unc could be with him, to see all the astonishing
things Ojo was seeing. But alas Unc Nunkie was now
a marble statue in the house of the Crooked
Magician and Ojo must not falter in his efforts to
save him.
The country through which they were passing was
still rocky and deserted, with here and there a
bush or a tree to break the dreary landscape. Ojo
noticed one tree, especially, because it had such
long, silky leaves and was so beautiful in shape.
As he approached it he studied the tree earnestly,
wondering if any fruit grew on it or if it bore
pretty flowers.
Suddenly he became aware that he had been
looking at that tree a long time--at least for
five minutes--and it had remained in the same
position, although the boy had continued to
walk steadily on. So he stopped short. and when
he stopped, the tree and all the landscape, as
well as his companions, moved on before him
and left him far behind.
Ojo uttered such a cry of astonishment that
it aroused the Shaggy Man, who also halted.
The others then stopped, too, and walked back
to the boy.
"What's wrong?" asked the Shaggy Man.
"Why, we're not moving forward a bit, no
matter how fast we walk," declared Ojo. "Now
that we have stopped, we are moving backward!
Can't you see? Just notice that rock."
Scraps looked down at her feet and said:
"The yellow bricks are not moving."
"But the whole road is," answered Ojo.
"True; quite true," agreed the Shaggy Man.
"I know all about the tricks of this road, but I
have been thinking of something else and didn't
realize where we were."
"It will carry us back to where we started
from," predicted Ojo, beginning to be nervous.
"No," replied the Shaggy Man; "it won't do
that, for I know a trick to beat this tricky road.
I've traveled this way before, you know. Turn
around, all of you, and walk backward."
"What good will that do?" asked the cat.
"You'll find out, if you obey me," said the
Shaggy Man.
So they all turned their backs to the direction
in which they wished to go and began walking
backward. In an instant Ojo noticed they were
gaining ground and as they proceeded in this
curious way they soon passed the tree which had
first attracted his attention to their difficulty.
"How long must we keep this up, Shags?"
asked Scraps, who was constantly tripping and
tumbling down, only to get up again with a
laugh at her mishap.
"Just a little way farther," replied the Shaggy
Man.
A few minutes later he called to them to turn
about quickly and step forward, and as they
obeyed the order they found themselves treading
solid ground.
"That task is well over," observed the Shaggy
Man. "It's a little tiresome to walk backward, but
that is the only way to pass this part of the
road, which has a trick of sliding back and
carrying with it anyone who is walking upon it."
With new courage and energy they now
trudged forward and after a time came to a
place where the road cut through a low hill,
leaving high banks on either side of it. They
were traveling along this cut, talking together,
when the Shaggy Man seized Scraps with one
arm and Ojo with another and shouted: "Stop!"
"What's wrong now?" asked the Patchwork Girl.
"See there!" answered the Shaggy Man, pointing
with his finger.
Directly in the center of the road lay a
motionless object that bristled all over with
sharp quills, which resembled arrows. The body was
as big as a ten-bushel-basket, but the projecting
quills made it appear to be four times bigger.
"Well, what of it?" asked Scraps.
"That is Chiss, who causes a lot of trouble
along this road," was the reply.
"Chiss! What is Chiss?
"I think it is merely an overgrown porcupine,
but here in Oz they consider Chiss an evil spirit.
He's different from a reg'lar porcupine, because
he can throw his quills in any direction, which
an American porcupine cannot do. That's what
makes old Chiss so dangerous. If we get too
near, he'll fire those quills at us and hurt us
badly."
"Then we will be foolish to get too near,"
said Scraps.
"I'm not afraid," declared the Woozy. "The Chiss
is cowardly, I'm sure, and if it ever heard my
awful, terrible, frightful growl, it would be
scared stiff."
"Oh; can you growl?" asked the Shaggy Man.
"That is the only ferocious thing about me,"
asserted the Woozy with evident pride. "My growl
makes an earthquake blush and the thunder ashamed
of itself. If I growled at that creature you call
Chiss, it would immediately think the world had
cracked in two and bumped against the sun and
moon, and that would cause the monster to run as
far and as fast as its legs could carry it."
"In that case," said the Shaggy Man, "you are
now able to do us all a great favor. Please
growl."
"But you forget," returned the Woozy; "my
tremendous growl would also frighten you, and
if you happen to have heart disease you might
expire."
"True; but we must take that risk," decided
the Shaggy Man, bravely. "Being warned of
what is to occur we must try to bear the terrific
noise of your growl; but Chiss won't expect it,
and it will scare him away."
The Woozy hesitated.
"I'm fond of you all, and I hate to shock you,"
it said.
"Never mind," said Ojo.
"You may be made deaf."
"If so, we will forgive you."
"Very well, then," said the Woozy in a
determined voice, and advanced a few steps toward
the giant porcupine. Pausing to look back, it
asked: "All ready?"
"All ready!" they answered.
"Then cover up your ears and brace yourselves
firmly. Now, then--look out!"
The Woozy turned toward Chiss, opened wide its
mouth and said:
"Quee-ee-ee-eek."
"Go ahead and growl," said Scraps.
"Why, I--I did growl!" retorted the Woozy,
who seemed much astonished.
"What, that little squeak?" she cried.
"It is the most awful growl that ever was heard,
on land or sea, in caverns or in the sky,"
protested the Woozy. "I wonder you stood the shock
so well. Didn't you feel the ground tremble? I
suppose Chiss is now quite dead with fright."
The Shaggy Man laughed merrily.
"Poor Wooz!" said he; "your growl wouldn't
scare a fly."
The Woozy seemed to be humiliated and surprised.
It hung its head a moment, as if in shame or
sorrow, but then it said with renewed confidence:
"Anyhow, my eyes can flash fire; and good fire,
too; good enough to set fire to a fence!"
"That is true," declared Scraps; "I saw it
done myself. But your ferocious growl isn't as
loud as the tick of a beetle--or one of Ojo's
snores when he's fast asleep."
"Perhaps," said the Woozy, humbly, "I have
been mistaken about my growl. It has always
sounded very fearful to me, but that may have
been because it was so close to my ears."
"Never mind," Ojo said soothingly; "it is a
great talent to be able to flash fire from your
eyes. No one else can do that."
As they stood hesitating what to do Chiss
stirred and suddenly a shower of quills came
flying toward them, almost filling the air, they
were so many. Scraps realized in an instant that
they had gone too near to Chiss for safety, so
she sprang in front of Ojo and shielded him
from the darts, which stuck their points into her
own body until she resembled one of those
targets they shoot arrows at in archery games.
The Shaggy Man dropped flat on his face to
avoid the shower, but one quill struck him in
the leg and went far in. As for the Glass Cat,
the quills rattled off her body without making
even a scratch, and the skin of the Woozy was
so thick and tough that he was not hurt at all.
When the attack was over they all ran to the
Shaggy Man, who was moaning and groaning, and
Scraps promptly pulled the quill out of his leg.
Then up he jumped and ran over to Chiss, putting
his foot on the monster's neck and holding it a
prisoner. The body of the great porcupine was now
as smooth as leather, except for the holes where
the quills had been, for it had shot every single
quill in that one wicked shower.
"Let me go!" it shouted angrily. "How dare
you put your foot on Chiss?"
"I'm going to do worse than that, old boy,"
replied the Shaggy Man. "You have annoyed
travelers on this road long enough, and now
I shall put an end to you."
"You can't!" returned Chiss. "Nothing can
kill me, as you know perfectly well."
"Perhaps that is true," said the Shaggy Man
in a tone of disappointment. "Seems to me I've
been told before that you can't be killed. But if
I let you go, what will you do?"
"Pick up my quills again," said Chiss in a
sulky voice.
"And then shoot them at more travelers? No;
that won't do. You must promise me to stop
throwing quills at people."
"I won't promise anything of the sort," declared
Chiss.
"Why not?"
"Because it is my nature to throw quills, and
every animal must do what Nature intends it
to do. It isn't fair for you to blame me. If it were
wrong for me to throw quills, then I wouldn't
be made with quills to throw. The proper thing
for you to do is to keep out of my way."
"Why, there's some sense in that argument,"
admitted the Shaggy Man, thoughtfully; "but
people who are strangers, and don't know you
are here, won't be able to keep out of your way."
"Tell you what," said Scraps, who was trying
to pull the quills out of her own body, "let's
gather up all the quills and take them away with
us; then old Chiss won't have any left to throw
at people."
"Ah, that's a clever idea. You and Ojo must
gather up the quills while I hold Chiss a
prisoner; for, if I let him go, he will get some of
his quills and be able to throw them again."
So Scraps and Ojo picked up all the quills
and tied them in a bundle so they might easily
be carried. After this the Shaggy Man released
Chiss and let him go, knowing that he was
harmless to injure anyone.
"It's the meanest trick I ever heard of,"
muttered the porcupine gloomily. "How would you
like it, Shaggy Man, if I took all your shags away
from you?"
"If I threw my shags and hurt people, you would
be welcome to capture them," was the reply.
Then they walked on and left Chiss standing in
the road sullen and disconsolate. The Shaggy Man
limped as he walked, for his wound still hurt him,
and Scraps was much annoyed because the quills
had left a number of small holes in her patches.
When they came to a flat stone by the roadside
the Shaggy Man sat down to rest, and then Ojo
opened his basket and took out the bundle of
charms the Crooked Magician had given him.
"I am Ojo the Unlucky," he said, "or we would
never have met that dreadful porcupine. But I will
see if I can find anything among these charms
which will cure your leg."
Soon he discovered that one of the charms
was labelled: "For flesh wounds," and this the
boy separated from the others. It was only a bit
of dried root, taken from some unknown shrub,
but the boy rubbed it upon the wound made by
the quill and in a few moments the place was
healed entirely and the Shaggy Man's leg was
as good as ever.
"Rub it on the holes in my patches," suggested
Scraps, and Ojo tried it, but without any effect.
"The charm you need is a needle and thread,"
said the Shaggy Man. "But do not worry, my
dear; those holes do not look badly, at all."
"They'll let in the air, and I don't want people
to think I'm airy, or that I've been stuck
up," said the Patchwork Girl.
"You were certainly stuck up until we pulled
out those quills," observed Ojo, with a laugh.
So now they went on again and coming presently
to a pond of muddy water they tied a heavy stone
to the bundle of quills and sunk it to the bottom
of the pond, to avoid carrying it farther.
Chapter Thirteen
Scraps and the Scarecrow
From here on the country improved and the desert
places began to give way to fertile spots; still
no houses were yet to be seen near the road. There
were some hills, with valleys between them, and on
reaching the top of one of these hills the
travelers found before them a high wall, running
to the right and the left as far as their eyes
could reach. Immediately in front of them, where
the wall crossed the roadway, stood a gate having
stout iron bars that extended from top to bottom.
They found, on coming nearer, that this gate was
locked with a great padlock, rusty through lack of
use.
"Well," said Scraps, "I guess we'll stop here."
"It's a good guess," replied Ojo. "Our way is
barred by this great wall and gate. It looks as if
no one had passed through in many years."
"Looks are deceiving," declared the Shaggy Man,
laughing at their disappointed faces, "and this
barrier is the most deceiving thing in all Oz."
"It prevents our going any farther, anyhow,"
said Scraps. "There is no one to mind the gate
and let people through, and we've no key to
the padlock."
"True," replied Ojo, going a little nearer to
peep through the bars of the gate. "What shall we
do, Shaggy Man? If we had wings we might fly over
the wall, but we cannot climb it and unless we get
to the Emerald City I won't be able to find the
things to restore Unc Nunkie to life."
"All very true," answered the Shaggy Man,
quietly; "but I know this gate, having passed
through it many times."
"How?" they all eagerly inquired.
"I'll show you how," said he. He stood Ojo
in the middle of the road and placed Scraps
just behind him, with her padded hands on his
shoulders. After the Patchwork Girl came the
Woozy, who held a part of her skirt in his
mouth. Then, last of all, was the Glass Cat,
holding fast to the Woozy's tail with her glass
jaws.
"Now," said the Shaggy Man, "you must all
shut your eyes tight, and keep them shut until
I tell you to open them."
"I can't," objected Scraps. "My eyes are buttons,
and they won't shut."
So the Shaggy Man tied his red handkerchief over
the Patchwork Girl's eyes and examined all the
others to make sure they had their eyes fast shut
and could see nothing.
"What's the game, anyhow--blind-man's-buff?"
asked Scraps.
"Keep quiet!" commanded the Shaggy Man,
sternly. "All ready? Then follow me."
He took Ojo's hand and led him forward over the
road of yellow bricks, toward the gate. Holding
fast to one another they all followed in a row,
expecting every minute to bump against the iron
bars. The Shaggy Man also had his eyes closed, but
marched straight ahead, nevertheless, and after
he had taken one hundred steps, by actual count,
he stopped and said:
"Now you may open your eyes."
They did so, and to their astonishment found
the wall and the gateway far behind them,
while in front the former Blue Country of the
Munchkins had given way to green fields, with
pretty farm-houses scattered among them.
"That wall," explained the Shaggy Man, "is
what is called an optical illusion. It is quite real
while you have your eyes open, but if you are
not looking at it the barrier doesn't exist at all.
It's the same way with many other evils in life;
they seem to exist, and yet it's all seeming and
not true. You will notice that the wall--or what
we thought was a wall--separates the Munchkin
Country from the green country that surrounds
the Emerald City, which lies exactly in the
center of Oz. There are two roads of yellow
bricks through the Munchkin Country, but the
one we followed is the best of the two. Dorothy
once traveled the other way, and met with more
dangers than we did. But all our troubles are
over for the present, as another day's journey
will bring us to the great Emerald City."
They were delighted to know this, and proceeded
with new courage. In a couple of hours they
stopped at a farmhouse, where the people were very
hospitable and invited them to dinner. The farm
folk regarded Scraps with much curiosity but no
great astonishment, for they were accustomed to
seeing extraordinary people in the Land of Oz.
The woman of this house got her needle and
thread and sewed up the holes made by the
porcupine quills in the Patchwork Girl's body,
after which Scraps was assured she looked as
beautiful as ever.
"You ought to have a hat to wear," remarked
the woman, "for that would keep the sun from
fading the colors of your face. I have some
patches and scraps put away, and if you will
wait two or three days I'll make you a lovely
hat that will match the rest of you."
"Never mind the hat," said Scraps, shaking
her yarn braids; "it's a kind offer, but we can't
stop. I can't see that my colors have faded a
particle, as yet; can you?"
"Not much," replied the woman. "You are still
very gorgeous, in spite of your long journey."
The children of the house wanted to keep the
Glass Cat to play with, so Bungle was offered
a good home if she would remain; but the cat
was too much interested in Ojo's adventures and
refused to stop.
"Children are rough playmates," she remarked to
the Shaggy Man, "and although this home is more
pleasant than that of the Crooked Magician I fear
I would soon be smashed to pieces by the boys and
girls."
After they had rested themselves they renewed
their journey, finding the road now smooth and
pleasant to walk upon and the country growing more
beautiful the nearer they drew to the Emerald
City.
By and by Ojo began to walk on the green
grass, looking carefully around him.
"What are you trying to find?" asked Scraps.
"A six-leaved clover," said he.
"Don't do that!" exclaimed the Shaggy Man,
earnestly. "It's against the Law to pick a six-
leaved clover. You must wait until you get Ozma's
consent."
"She wouldn't know it," declared the boy.
"Ozma knows many things," said the Shaggy Man.
"In her room is a Magic Picture that shows any
scene in the Land of Oz where strangers or
travelers happen to be. She may be watching the
picture of us even now, and noticing everything
that we do."
"Does she always watch the Magic Picture?"
asked Ojo.
"Not always, for she has many other things
to do; but, as I said, she may be watching us
this very minute."
"I don't care," said Ojo, in an obstinate tone
of voice; "Ozma's only a girl."
The Shaggy Man looked at him in surprise.
"You ought to care for Ozma," said he, "if you
expect to save your uncle. For, if you displease
our powerful Ruler, your journey will surely prove
a failure; whereas, if you make a friend of Ozma,
she will gladly assist you. As for her being a
girl, that is another reason why you should obey
her laws, if you are courteous and polite.
Everyone in Oz loves Ozma and hates her enemies,
for she is as just as she is powerful."
Ojo sulked a while, but finally returned to the
road and kept away from the green clover. The
boy was moody and bad tempered for an hour
or two afterward, because he could really see
no harm in picking a six-leaved clover, if he
found one, and in spite of what the Shaggy
Man had said he considered Ozma's law to be
unjust.
They presently came to a beautiful grove of tall
and stately trees, through which the road wound in
sharp curves--first one way and then another. As
they were walking through this grove they heard
some one in the distance singing, and the sounds
grew nearer and nearer until they could
distinguish the words, although the bend in the
road still hid the singer. The song was something
like this:
"Here's to the hale old bale of straw
That's cut from the waving grain,
The sweetest sight man ever saw
In forest, dell or plain.
It fills me with a crunkling joy
A straw-stack to behold,
For then I pad this lucky boy
With strands of yellow gold."
"Ah!" exclaimed the Shaggy Man; "here comes my
friend the Scarecrow."
"What, a live Scarecrow?" asked Ojo.
"Yes; the one I told you of. He's a splendid
fellow, and very intelligent. You'll like him,
I'm sure."
Just then the famous Scarecrow of Oz came
around the bend in the road, riding astride a
wooden Sawhorse which was so small that its
rider's legs nearly touched the ground.
The Scarecrow wore the blue dress of the
Munchkins, in which country he was made,
and on his head was set a peaked hat with a flat
brim trimmed with tinkling bells. A rope was
tied around his waist to hold him in shape, for
he was stuffed with straw in every part of him
except the top of his head, where at one time
the Wizard of Oz had placed sawdust, mixed
with needles and pins, to sharpen his wits. The
head itself was merely a bag of cloth, fastened
to the body at the neck, and on the front of this
bag was painted the face--ears, eyes, nose and
mouth.
The Scarecrow's face was very interesting, for
it bore a comical and yet winning expression,
although one eye was a bit larger than the other
and ears were not mates. The Munchkin farmer who
had made the Scarecrow had neglected to sew him
together with close stitches and therefore some of
the straw with which he was stuffed was inclined
to stick out between the seams. His hands
consisted of padded white gloves, with the fingers
long and rather limp, and on his feet he wore
Munchkin boots of blue leather with broad turns at
the tops of them.
The Sawhorse was almost as curious as its rider.
It had been rudely made, in the beginning, to saw
logs upon, so that its body was a short length of
a log, and its legs were stout branches fitted
into four holes made in the body. The tail was
formed by a small branch that had been left on the
log, while the head was a gnarled bump on one end
of the body. Two knots of wood formed the eyes,
and the mouth was a gash chopped in the log. When
the Sawhorse first came to life it had no ears at
all, and so could not hear; but the boy who then
owned him had whittled two ears out of bark and
stuck them in the head, after which the Sawhorse
heard very distinctly.
This queer wooden horse was a great favorite
with Princess Ozma, who had caused the bottoms of
its legs to be shod with plates of gold, so the
wood would not wear away. Its saddle was made of
cloth-of-gold richly encrusted with precious gems.
It had never worn a bridle.
As the Scarecrow came in sight of the party of
travelers, he reined in his wooden steed and
dismounted, greeting the Shaggy Man with a smiling
nod. Then he turned to stare at the Patchwork Girl
in wonder, while she in turn stared at him.
"Shags," he whispered, drawing the Shaggy Man
aside, "pat me into shape, there's a good fellow!"
While his friend punched and patted the
Scarecrow's body, to smooth out the humps, Scraps
turned to Ojo and whispered: "Roll me out, please;
I've sagged down dreadfully from walking so much
and men like to see a stately figure."
She then fell upon the ground and the boy rolled
her back and forth like a rolling-pin, until the
cotton had filled all the spaces in her patchwork
covering and the body had lengthened to its
fullest extent. Scraps and the Scarecrow both
finished their hasty toilets at the same time, and
again they faced each other.
"Allow me, Miss Patchwork," said the Shaggy Man,
"to present my friend, the Right Royal Scarecrow
of Oz. Scarecrow, this is Miss Scraps Patches;
Scraps, this is the Scarecrow. Scarecrow--Scraps;
Scraps--Scarecrow."
They both bowed with much dignity.
"Forgive me for staring so rudely," said the
Scarecrow, "but you are the most beautiful sight
my eyes have ever beheld."
"That is a high compliment from one who is
himself so beautiful," murmured Scraps, casting
down her suspender-button eyes by lowering her
head. "But, tell me, good sir, are you not a
trifle lumpy?"
"Yes, of course; that's my straw, you know.
It bunches up, sometimes, in spite of all my
efforts to keep it even. Doesn't your straw ever
bunch?"
"Oh, I'm stuffed with cotton," said Scraps.
"It never bunches, but it's inclined to pack down
and make me sag."
"But cotton is a high-grade stuffing. I may say
it is even more stylish, not to say aristocratic,
than straw," said the Scarecrow politely. "Still,
it is but proper that one so entrancingly lovely
should have the best stuffing there is going. I--
er--I'm so glad I've met you, Miss Scraps!
Introduce us again, Shaggy."
"Once is enough," replied the Shaggy Man,
laughing at his friend's enthusiasm.
"Then tell me where you found her, and--Dear me,
what a queer cat! What are you made of--gelatine?"
"Pure glass," answered the cat, proud to have
attracted the Scarecrow's attention. "I am much
more beautiful than the Patchwork Girl. I'm
transparent, and Scraps isn't; I've pink brains--
you can see 'em work; and I've a ruby heart,
finely polished, while Scraps hasn't any heart at
all."
"No more have I," said the Scarecrow, shaking
hands with Scraps, as if to congratulate her on
the fact. "I've a friend, the Tin Woodman, who has
a heart, but I find I get along pretty well
without one. And so--Well, well! here's a little
Munchkin boy, too. Shake hands, my little man. How
are you?"
Ojo placed his hand in the flabby stuffed glove
that served the Scarecrow for a hand, and the
Scarecrow pressed it so cordially that the straw
in his glove crackled.
Meantime, the Woozy had approached the Sawhorse
and begun to sniff at it. The Sawhorse resented
this familiarity and with a sudden kick pounded
the Woozy squarely on its head with one gold-shod
foot.
"Take that, you monster!" it cried angrily.
The Woozy never even winked.
"To be sure," he said; "I'll take anything I
have to. But don't make me angry, you wooden
beast, or my eyes will flash fire and burn you
up."
The Sawhorse rolled its knot eyes wickedly
and kicked again, but the Woozy trotted away
and said to the Scarecrow:
"What a sweet disposition that creature has!
I advise you to chop it up for kindling-wood
and use me to ride upon. My back is flat and
you can't fall off."
"I think the trouble is that you haven't been
properly introduced," said the Scarecrow,
regarding the Woozy with much wonder, for he had
never seen such a queer animal before.
"The Sawhorse is the favorite steed of Princess
Ozma, the Ruler of the Land of Oz, and he lives in
a stable decorated with pearls and emeralds, at
the rear of the royal palace. He is swift as the
wind, untiring, and is kind to his friends. All
the people of Oz respect the Sawhorse highly, and
when I visit Ozma she sometimes allows me to ride
him--as I am doing to-day. Now you know what an
important personage the Sawhorse is, and if some
one--perhaps yourself--will tell me your name,
your rank and station, and your history, it will
give me pleasure to relate them to the Sawhorse.
This will lead to mutual respect and friendship."
The Woozy was somewhat abashed by this speech
and did not know how to reply. But Ojo said:
"This square beast is called the Woozy, and he
isn't of much importance except that he has three
hairs growing on the tip of his tail."
The Scarecrow looked and saw that this was true.
"But," said he, in a puzzled way, "what makes
those three hairs important? The Shaggy Man has
thousands of hairs, but no one has ever accused
him of being important."
So Ojo related the sad story of Unc Nunkie's
transformation into a marble statue, and told how
he had set out to find the things the Crooked
Magician wanted, in order to make a charm that
would restore his uncle to life. One of the
requirements was three hairs from a Woozy's tail,
but not being able to pull out the hairs they had
been obliged to take the Woozy with them.
The Scarecrow looked grave as he listened and he
shook his head several times, as if in
disapproval.
"We must see Ozma about this matter," he
said. "That Crooked Magician is breaking the
Law by practicing magic without a license, and
I'm not sure Ozma will allow him to restore your
uncle to life."
"Already I have warned the boy of that,"
declared the Shaggy Man.
At this Ojo began to cry. "I want my Unc
Nunkie!" he exclaimed. "I know how he can be
restored to life, and I'm going to do it--Ozma or
no Ozma! What right has this girl Ruler to keep my
Unc Nunkie a statue forever?"
"Don't worry about that just now," advised
the Scarecrow. "Go on to the Emerald City,
and when you reach it have the Shaggy Man
take you to see Dorothy. Tell her your story and
I'm sure she will help you. Dorothy is Ozma's
best friend, and if you can win her to your side
your uncle is pretty safe to live again." Then he
turned to the Woozy and said: "I'm afraid you
are not important enough to be introduced to
the Sawhorse, after all."
"I'm a better beast than he is," retorted the
Woozy, indignantly. "My eyes can flash fire, and
his can't."
"Is this true?" inquired the Scarecrow, turning
to the Munchkin boy.
"Yes," said Ojo, and told how the Woozy had
set fire to the fence.
"Have you any other accomplishments?"
asked the Scarecrow.
"I have a most terrible growl--that is,
sometimes," said the Woozy, as Scraps laughed
merrily and the Shaggy Man smiled. But the Patchwork
Girl's laugh made the Scarecrow forget all
about the Woozy. He said to her:
"What an admirable young lady you are, and
what jolly good company! We must be better
acquainted, for never before have I met a girl
with such exquisite coloring or such natural,
artless manners."
"No wonder they call you the Wise Scarecrow,"
replied Scraps.
"When you arrive at the Emerald City I will see
you again," continued the Scarecrow. "Just now I
am going to call upon an old friend--an ordinary
young lady named Jinjur--who has promised to
repaint my left ear for me. You may have noticed
that the paint on my left ear has peeled off and
faded, which affects my hearing on that side.
Jinjur always fixes me up when I get weather-
worn."
"When do you expect to return to the Emerald
City?" asked the Shaggy Man.
"I'll be there this evening, for I'm anxious
to have a long talk with Miss Scraps. How is it,
Sawhorse; are you equal to a swift run?"
"Anything that suits you suits me," returned
the wooden horse.
So the Scarecrow mounted to the jeweled
saddle and waved his hat, when the Sawhorse
darted away so swiftly that they were out of
sight in an instant.
Chapter Fourteen
Ojo Breaks the Law
"What a queer man," remarked the Munchkin boy,
when the party had resumed its journey.
"And so nice and polite," added Scraps, bobbing
her head. "I think he is the handsomest man I've
seen since I came to life."
"Handsome is as handsome does," quoted the
Shaggy Man; "but we must admit that no living
scarecrow is handsomer. The chief merit of my
friend is that he is a great thinker, and in Oz it
is considered good policy to follow his advice."
"I didn't notice any brains in his head,"
observed the Glass Cat.
"You can't see 'em work, but they're there, all
right," declared the Shaggy Man. "I hadn't much
confidence in his brains myself, when first I came
to Oz, for a humbug Wizard gave them to him; but I
was soon convinced that the Scarecrow is really
wise; and, unless his brains make him so, such
wisdom is unaccountable."
"Is the Wizard of Oz a humbug?" asked Ojo.
"Not now. He was once, but he has reformed
and now assists Glinda the Good, who is the
Royal Sorceress of Oz and the only one licensed
to practice magic or sorcery. Glinda has taught
our old Wizard a good many clever things, so
he is no longer a humbug."
They walked a little while in silence and
then Ojo said:
"If Ozma forbids the Crooked Magician to
restore Unc Nunkie to life, what shall I do?"
The Shaggy Man shook his head.
"In that case you can't do anything," he said.
"But don't be discouraged yet. We will go to
Princess Dorothy and tell her your troubles, and
then we will let her talk to Ozma. Dorothy has the
kindest little heart in the world, and she has
been through so many troubles herself that she is
sure to sympathize with you."
"Is Dorothy the little girl who came here from
Kansas?" asked the boy.
"Yes. In Kansas she was Dorothy Gale. I used to
know her there, and she brought me to the Land of
Oz. But now Ozma has made her a Princess, and
Dorothy's Aunt Em and Uncle Henry are here, too."
Here the Shaggy Man uttered a long sigh, and then
he continued: "It's a queer country, this Land of
Oz; but I like it, nevertheless."
"What is queer about it?" asked Scraps.
"You, for instance," said he.
"Did you see no girls as beautiful as I am in
your own country?" she inquired.
"None with the same gorgeous, variegated
beauty," he confessed. "In America a girl stuffed
with cotton wouldn't be alive, nor would anyone
think of making a girl out of a patchwork quilt."
"What a queer country America must be!" she
exclaimed in great surprise. "The Scarecrow, whom
you say is wise, told me I am the most beautiful
creature he has ever seen."
"I know; and perhaps you are--from a scarecrow
point of view," replied the Shaggy Man; but why he
smiled as he said it Scraps could not imagine.
As they drew nearer to the Emerald City the
travelers were filled with admiration for the
splendid scenery they beheld. Handsome houses
stood on both sides of the road and each had a
green lawn before it as well as a pretty flower
garden.
"In another hour," said the Shaggy Man, "we
shall come in sight of the walls of the Royal
City."
He was walking ahead, with Scraps, and behind
them came the Woozy and the Glass Cat. Ojo had
lagged behind, for in spite of the warnings he
had received the boy's eyes were fastened on the
clover that bordered the road of yellow bricks and
he was eager to discover if such a thing as a
six-leaved clover really existed.
Suddenly he stopped short and bent over to
examine the ground more closely. Yes; here at last
was a clover with six spreading leaves. He counted
them carefully, to make sure. In an instant his
heart leaped with joy, for this was one of the
important things he had come for--one of the
things that would restore dear Unc Nunkie to life.
He glanced ahead and saw that none of his
companions was looking back. Neither were any
other people about, for it was midway between
two houses. The temptation was too strong to
be resisted.
"I might search for weeks and weeks, and
never find another six-leaved clover," he told
himself, and quickly plucking the stem from the
plant he placed the prized clover in his basket,
covering it with the other things he carried
there. Then, trying to look as if nothing had
happened, he hurried forward and overtook his
comrades.
The Emerald City, which is the most splendid as
well as the most beautiful city in any fairyland,
is surrounded by a high, thick wall of green
marble, polished smooth and set with glistening
emeralds. There are four gates, one facing the
Munchkin Country, one facing the Country of the
Winkies, one facing the Country of the Quadlings
and one facing the Country of the Gillikins. The
Emerald City lies directly in the center of these
four important countries of Oz. The gates had bars
of pure gold, and on either side of each gateway
were built high towers, from which floated gay
banners. Other towers were set at distances along
the walls, which were broad enough for four people
to walk abreast upon.
This enclosure, all green and gold and
glittering with precious gems, was indeed a
wonderful sight to greet our travelers, who first
observed it from the top of a little hill; but
beyond the wall was the vast city it surrounded,
and hundreds of jeweled spires, domes and
minarets, flaunting flags and banners, reared
their crests far above the towers of the gateways.
In the center of the city our friends could see
the tops of many magnificent trees, some nearly as
tall as the spires of the buildings, and the
Shaggy Man told them that these trees were in the
royal gardens of Princess Ozma.
They stood a long time on the hilltop, feasting
their eyes on the splendor of the Emerald City.
"Whee!" exclaimed Scraps, clasping her padded
hands in ecstacy, "that'll do for me to live in,
all right. No more of the Munchkin Country for
these patches--and no more of the Crooked
Magician!"
"Why, you belong to Dr. Pipt," replied Ojo,
looking at her in amazement. "You were made for a
servant, Scraps, so you are personal property and
not your own mistress."
"Bother Dr. Pipt! If he wants me, let him
come here and get me. I'll not go back to his
den of my own accord; that's certain. Only one
place in the Land of Oz is fit to live in, and
that's the Emerald City. It's lovely! It's almost
as beautiful as I am, Ojo."
"In this country," remarked the Shaggy Man,
"people live wherever our Ruler tells them to. It
wouldn't do to have everyone live in the Emerald
City, you know, for some must plow the land and
raise grains and fruits and vegetables, while
others chop wood in the forests, or fish in the
rivers, or herd the sheep and the cattle."
"Poor things!" said Scraps.
"I'm not sure they are not happier than the city
people," replied the Shaggy Man. "There's a
freedom and independence in country life that not
even the Emerald City can give one. I know that
lots of the city people would like to get back to
the land. The Scarecrow lives in the country, and
so do the Tin Woodman and Jack Pumpkinhead; yet
all three would be welcome to live in Ozma's
palace if they cared to. Too much splendor becomes
tiresome, you know. But, if we're to reach the
Emerald City before sundown, we must hurry, for it
is yet a long way off."
The entrancing sight of the city had put new
energy into them all and they hurried forward
with lighter steps than before. There was much
to interest them along the roadway, for the
houses were now set more closely together and
they met a good many people who were coming
or going from one place or another. All these
seemed happy-faced, pleasant people, who
nodded graciously to the strangers as they
passed, and exchanged words of greeting.
At last they reached the great gateway, just
as the sun was setting and adding its red glow
to the glitter of the emeralds on the green walls
and spires. Somewhere inside the city a band
could be heard playing sweet music; a soft,
subdued hum, as of many voices, reached their
ears; from the neighboring yards came the low
mooing of cows waiting to be milked.
They were almost at the gate when the golden
bars slid back and a tall soldier stepped out and
faced them. Ojo thought he had never seen so
tall a man before. The soldier wore a handsome
green and gold uniform, with a tall hat in which
was a waving plume, and he had a belt thickly
encrusted with jewels. But the most peculiar
thing about him was his long green beard,
which fell far below his waist and perhaps
made him seem taller than he really was.
"Halt!" said the Soldier with the Green
Whiskers, not in a stern voice but rather in a
friendly tone.
They halted before he spoke and stood looking at
him.
"Good evening, Colonel," said the Shaggy
Man. "What's the news since I left? Anything
important?"
"Billina has hatched out thirteen new chickens,"
replied the Soldier with the Green Whiskers, "and
they're the cutest little fluffy yellow balls you
ever saw. The Yellow Hen is mighty proud of those
children, I can tell you."
"She has a right to be," agreed the Shaggy
Man. "Let me see; that's about seven thousand
chicks she has hatched out; isn't it, General?"
"That, at least," was the reply. "You will have
to visit Billina and congratulate her."
"It will give me pleasure to do that," said the
Shaggy Man. "But you will observe that I have
brought some strangers home with me. I am
going to take them to see Dorothy."
"One moment, please," said the soldier, barring
their way as they started to enter the gate. "I am
on duty, and I have orders to execute. Is anyone
in your party named Ojo the Unlucky?"
"Why, that's me!" cried Ojo, astonished at
hearing his name on the lips of a stranger.
The Soldier with the Green Whiskers nodded. "I
thought so," said he, "and I am sorry to announce
that it is my painful duty to arrest you."
"Arrest me!" exclaimed the boy. "What for?"
"I haven't looked to see," answered the soldier.
Then he drew a paper from his breast pocket and
glanced at it. "Oh, yes; you are to be arrested
for willfully breaking one of the Laws of Oz."
"Breaking a law!" said Scraps. "Nonsense,
Soldier; you're joking."
"Not this time," returned the soldier, with a
sigh. "My dear child--what are you, a rummage sale
or a guess-me-quick?--in me you behold the Body-
Guard of our gracious Ruler, Princess Ozma, as
well as the Royal Army of Oz and the Police Force
of the Emerald City."
"And only one man!" exclaimed the Patchwork Girl.
"Only one, and plenty enough. In my official
positions I've had nothing to do for a good many
years--so long that I began to fear I was
absolutely useless--until to-day. An hour ago I was
called to the presence of her Highness, Ozma of
Oz, and told to arrest a boy named Ojo the
Unlucky, who was journeying from the Munchkin
Country to the Emerald City and would arrive in a
short time. This command so astonished me that I
nearly fainted, for it is the first time anyone
has merited arrest since I can remember. You are
rightly named Ojo the Unlucky, my poor boy, since
you have broken a Law of Oz.
"But you are wrong," said Scraps. "Ozma is
wrong--you are all wrong--for Ojo has broken no
Law."
"Then he will soon be free again," replied the
Soldier with the Green Whiskers. "Anyone accused
of crime is given a fair trial by our Ruler and
has every chance to prove his innocence. But just
now Ozma's orders must be obeyed."
With this he took from his pocket a pair of
handcuffs made of gold and set with rubies and
diamonds, and these he snapped over Ojo's wrists.
Chapter Fifteen
Ozma's Prisoner
The boy was so bewildered by this calamity that he
made no resistance at all. He knew very well he
was guilty, but it surprised him that Ozma also
knew it. He wondered how she had found out so soon
that he had picked the six-leaved clover. He
handed his basket to Scraps and said:
"Keep that, until I get out of prison. If I
never get out, take it to the Crooked Magician, to
whom it belongs."
The Shaggy Man had been gazing earnestly in the
boy's face, uncertain whether to defend him or
not; but something he read in Ojo's expression
made him draw back and refuse to interfere to save
him. The Shaggy Man was greatly surprised and
grieved, but he knew that Ozma never made mistakes
and so Ojo must really have broken the Law of Oz.
The Soldier with the Green Whiskers now led them
all through the gate and into a little room built
in the wall. Here sat a jolly little man, richly
dressed in green and having around his neck a
heavy gold chain to which a number of great golden
keys were attached. This was the Guardian of the
Gate and at the moment they entered his room he
was playing a tune upon a mouth-organ.
"Listen!" he said, holding up his hand for
silence. "I've just composed a tune called 'The
Speckled Alligator.' It's in patch-time, which is
much superior to rag-time, and I've composed it in
honor of the Patchwork Girl, who has just
arrived."
"How did you know I had arrived?" asked Scraps,
much interested.
"It's my business to know who's coming, for I'm
the Guardian of the Gate. Keep quiet while I play
you 'The Speckled Alligator.'"
It wasn't a very bad tune, nor a very good one,
but all listened respectfully while he shut his
eyes and swayed his head from side to side and
blew the notes from the little instrument. When it
was all over the Soldier with the Green Whiskers
said:
"Guardian, I have here a prisoner."
"Good gracious! A prisoner?" cried the little
man, jumping up from his chair. "Which one? Not
the Shaggy Man?"
"No; this boy."
"Ah; I hope his fault is as small as himself,"
said the Guardian of the Gate. "But what can he
have done, and what made him do it?"
"Can't say," replied the soldier. "All I know
is that he has broken the Law."
"But no one ever does that!"
"Then he must be innocent, and soon will be
released. I hope you are right, Guardian. Just now
I am ordered to take him to prison. Get me a
prisoner's robe from your Official Wardrobe."
The Guardian unlocked a closet and took
from it a white robe, which the soldier threw
over Ojo. It covered him from head to foot, but
had two holes just in front of his eyes, so he
could see where to go. In this attire the boy
presented a very quaint appearance.
As the Guardian unlocked a gate leading
from his room into the streets of the Emerald
City, the Shaggy Man said to Scraps:
"I think I shall take you directly to Dorothy,
as the Scarecrow advised, and the Glass Cat
and the Woozy may come with us. Ojo must
go to prison with the Soldier with the Green
Whiskers, but he will be well treated and you
need not worry about him."
"What will they do with him?" asked Scraps.
"That I cannot tell. Since I came to the Land of
Oz no one has ever been arrested or imprisoned--
until Ojo broke the Law."
"Seems to me that girl Ruler of yours is making
a big fuss over nothing," remarked Scraps, tossing
her yarn hair out of her eyes with a jerk of her
patched head. "I don't know what Ojo has done, but
it couldn't be anything very bad, for you and I
were with him all the time."
The Shaggy Man made no reply to this speech and
presently the Patchwork Girl forgot all about Ojo
in her admiration of the wonderful city she had
entered.
They soon separated from the Munchkin boy, who
was led by the Soldier with the Green Whiskers
down a side street toward the prison. Ojo felt
very miserable and greatly ashamed of himself, but
he was beginning to grow angry because he was
treated in such a disgraceful manner. Instead of
entering the splendid Emerald City as a
respectable traveler who was entitled to a
welcome and to hospitality, he was being brought
in as a criminal, handcuffed and in a robe that
told all he met of his deep disgrace.
Ojo was by nature gentle and affectionate and if
he had disobeyed the Law of Oz it was to restore
his dear Unc Nunkie to life. His fault was more
thoughtless than wicked, but that did not alter
the fact that he had committed a fault. At first
he had felt sorrow and remorse, but the more he
thought about the unjust treatment he had
received--unjust merely because he considered it
so--the more he resented his arrest, blaming Ozma
for making foolish laws and then punishing folks
who broke them. Only a six-leaved clover! A tiny
green plant growing neglected and trampled under
foot. What harm could there be in picking it? Ojo
began to think Ozma must be a very bad and
oppressive Ruler for such a lovely fairyland as
Oz. The Shaggy Man said the people loved her; but
how could they?
The little Munchkin boy was so busy thinking
these things--which many guilty prisoners have
thought before him--that he scarcely noticed all
the splendor of the city streets through which
they passed. Whenever they met any of the happy,
smiling people, the boy turned his head away in
shame, although none knew who was beneath the
robe.
By and by they reached a house built just beside
the great city wall, but in a quiet, retired
place. It was a pretty house, neatly painted and
with many windows. Before it was a garden filled
with blooming flowers. The Soldier with the Green
Whiskers led Ojo up the gravel path to the front
door, on which he knocked.
A woman opened the door and, seeing Ojo
in his white robe, exclaimed:
"Goodness me! A prisoner at last. But what a
small one, Soldier."
"The size doesn't matter, Tollydiggle, my
dear. The fact remains that he is a prisoner,"
said the soldier. "And, this being the prison,
and you the jailer, it is my duty to place the
prisoner in your charge."
"True. Come in, then, and I'll give you a
receipt for him."
They entered the house and passed through a hall
to a large circular room, where the woman pulled
the robe off from Ojo and looked at him with
kindly interest. The boy, on his part, was gazing
around him in amazement, for never had he dreamed
of such a magnificent apartment as this in which
he stood. The roof of the dome was of colored
glass, worked into beautiful designs. The walls
were paneled with plates of gold decorated with
gems of great size and many colors, and upon the
tiled floor were soft rugs delightful to walk
upon. The furniture was framed in gold and
upholstered in satin brocade and it consisted of
easy chairs, divans and stools in great variety.
Also there were several tables with mirror tops
and cabinets filled with rare and curious things.
In one place a case filled with books stood
against the wall, and elsewhere Ojo saw a cupboard
containing all sorts of games.
"May I stay here a little while before I go to
prison?" asked the boy, pleadingly.
"Why, this is your prison," replied Tollydiggle,
"and in me behold your jailor. Take off those
handcuffs, Soldier, for it is impossible for
anyone to escape from this house."
"I know that very well," replied the soldier and
at once unlocked the handcuffs and released the
prisoner.
The woman touched a button on the wall and
lighted a big chandelier that hung suspended from
the ceiling, for it was growing dark outside. Then
she seated herself at a desk and asked:
"What name?"
"Ojo the Unlucky," answered the Soldier
with the Green Whiskers.
"Unlucky? Ah, that accounts for it," said she.
"What crime?"
"Breaking a Law of Oz."
"All right. There's your receipt, Soldier; and
now I'm responsible for the prisoner. I'm glad
of it, for this is the first time I've ever had
anything to do, in my official capacity," remarked
the jailer, in a pleased tone.
"It's the same with me, Tollydiggle," laughed
the soldier. "But my task is finished and I must
go and report to Ozma that I've done my duty
like a faithful Police Force, a loyal Army and
an honest Body-Guard--as I hope I am."
Saying this, he nodded farewell to Tollydiggle
and Ojo and went away.
"Now, then," said the woman briskly, "I must get
you some supper, for you are doubtless hungry.
What would you prefer: planked whitefish, omelet
with jelly or mutton-chops with gravy?"
Ojo thought about it. Then he said: "I'll take
the chops, if you please."
"Very well; amuse yourself while I'm gone;
I won't be long," and then she went out by a
door and left the prisoner alone.
Ojo was much astonished, for not only was this
unlike any prison he had ever heard of, but he was
being treated more as a guest than a criminal.
There were many windows and they had no locks.
There were three doors to the room and none were
bolted. He cautiously opened one of the doors and
found it led into a hallway. But he had no
intention of trying to escape. If his jailor was
willing to trust him in this way he would not
betray her trust, and moreover a hot supper was
being prepared for him and his prison was very
pleasant and comfortable. So he took a book from
the case and sat down in a big chair to look at
the pictures.
This amused him until the woman came in with a
large tray and spread a cloth on one of the
tables. Then she arranged his supper, which proved
the most varied and delicious meal Ojo had ever
eaten in his life.
Tollydiggle sat near him while he ate, sewing
on some fancy work she held in her lap. When
he had finished she cleared the table and then
read to him a story from one of the books.
"Is this really a prison?" he asked, when she
had finished reading.
"Indeed it is," she replied. "It is the only
prison in the Land of Oz."
"And am I a prisoner?"
"Bless the child! Of course."
"Then why is the prison so fine, and why
are you so kind to me?" he earnestly asked.
Tollydiggle seemed surprised by the question,
but she presently answered:
"We consider a prisoner unfortunate. He is
unfortunate in two ways--because he has done
something wrong and because he is deprived of his
liberty. Therefore we should treat him kindly,
because of his misfortune, for otherwise he would
become hard and bitter and would not be sorry he
had done wrong. Ozma thinks that one who has
committed a fault did so because he was not strong
and brave; therefore she puts him in prison to
make him strong and brave. When that is
accomplished he is no longer a prisoner, but a
good and loyal citizen and everyone is glad that
he is now strong enough to resist doing wrong. You
see, it is kindness that makes one strong and
brave; and so we are kind to our prisoners."
Ojo thought this over very carefully. "I had
an idea," said he, "that prisoners were always
treated harshly, to punish them."
"That would be dreadful!" cried Tollydiggle.
"Isn't one punished enough in knowing he has
done wrong? Don't you wish, Ojo, with all your
heart, that you had not been disobedient and
broken a Law of Oz?"
"I--I hate to be different from other people,"
he admitted.
"Yes; one likes to be respected as highly as his
neighbors are," said the woman. "When you are
tried and found guilty, you will be obliged to
make amends, in some way. I don't know just
what Ozma will do to you, because this is the
first time one of us has broken a Law; but you
may be sure she will be just and merciful. Here
in the Emerald City people are too happy and
contented ever to do wrong; but perhaps you
came from some faraway corner of our land, and
having no love for Ozma carelessly broke one
of her Laws."
"Yes," said Ojo, "I've lived all my life in the
heart of a lonely forest, where I saw no one but
dear Unc Nunkie."
"I thought so," said Tollydiggle. "But now
we have talked enough, so let us play a game
until bedtime."
Chapter Sixteen
Princess Dorothy
Dorothy Gale was sitting in one of her rooms in
the royal palace, while curled up at her feet was
a little black dog with a shaggy coat and very
bright eyes. She wore a plain white frock, without
any jewels or other ornaments except an emerald-
green hair-ribbon, for Dorothy was a simple
little girl and had not been in the least spoiled
by the magnificence surrounding her. Once the
child had lived on the Kansas prairies, but she
seemed marked for adventure, for she had made
several trips to the Land of Oz before she came to
live there for good. Her very best friend was the
beautiful Ozma of Oz, who loved Dorothy so well
that she kept her in her own palace, so as to be
near her. The girl's Uncle Henry and Aunt Em--the
only relatives she had in the world--had also been
brought here by Ozma and given a pleasant home.
Dorothy knew almost everybody in Oz, and it was
she who had discovered the Scarecrow, the Tin
Woodman and the Cowardly Lion, as well as Tik-Tok
the Clockwork Man. Her life was very pleasant now,
and although she had been made a Princess of Oz by
her friend Ozma she did not care much to be a
Princess and remained as sweet as when she had
been plain Dorothy Gale of Kansas.
Dorothy was reading in a book this evening
when Jellia Jamb, the favorite servant-maid of
the palace, came to say that the Shaggy Man
wanted to see her.
"All right," said Dorothy; "tell him to come
right up."
"But he has some queer creatures with him--some
of the queerest I've ever laid eyes on," reported
Jellia.
"Never mind; let 'em all come up," replied
Dorothy.
But when the door opened to admit not only the
Shaggy Man, but Scraps, the Woozy and the Glass
Cat, Dorothy jumped up and looked at her strange
visitors in amazement. The Patchwork Girl was the
most curious of all and Dorothy was uncertain at
first whether Scraps was really alive or only a
dream or a nightmare. Toto, her dog, slowly
uncurled himself and going to the Patchwork Girl
sniffed at her inquiringly; but soon he lay down
again, as if to say he had no interest in such an
irregular creation.
"You're a new one to me," Dorothy said
reflectively, addressing the Patchwork Girl. "I
can't imagine where you've come from."
"Who, me?" asked Scraps, looking around the
pretty room instead of at the girl. "Oh, I came
from a bed-quilt, I guess. That's what they say,
anyhow. Some call it a crazy-quilt and some a
patchwork quilt. But my name is Scraps--and now
you know all about me."
"Not quite all," returned Dorothy with a smile.
"I wish you'd tell me how you came to be alive."
"That's an easy job," said Scraps, sitting upon
a big upholstered chair and making the springs
bounce her up and down. "Margolotte wanted a
slave, so she made me out of an old bed-quilt she
didn't use. Cotton stuffing, suspender-button
eyes, red velvet tongue, pearl beads for teeth.
The Crooked Magician made a Powder of Life,
sprinkled me with it and--here I am. Perhaps
you've noticed my different colors. A very refined
and educated gentleman named the Scarecrow, whom I
met, told me I am the most beautiful creature in
all Oz, and I believe it."
"Oh! Have you met our Scarecrow, then?" asked
Dorothy, a little puzzled to understand the brief
history related.
"Yes; isn't he jolly?"
"The Scarecrow has many good qualities," replied
Dorothy. "But I'm sorry to hear all this 'bout the
Crooked Magician. Ozma'll be mad as hops when she
hears he's been doing magic again. She told him
not to."
"He only practices magic for the benefit of his
own family," explained Bungle, who was keeping at
a respectful distance from the little black dog.
"Dear me," said Dorothy; "I hadn't noticed
you before. Are you glass, or what?"
"I'm glass, and transparent, too, which is more
than can be said of some folks," answered the
cat. "Also I have some lovely pink brains; you
can see 'em work."
"Oh; is that so? Come over here and let me see."
The Glass Cat hesitated, eyeing the dog.
"Send that beast away and I will," she said.
"Beast! Why, that's my dog Toto, an' he's the
kindest dog in all the world. Toto knows a good
many things, too; 'most as much as I do, I
guess."
"Why doesn't he say anything?" asked Bungle.
"He can't talk, not being a fairy dog,"
explained Dorothy. "He's just a common United
States dog; but that's a good deal; and I
understand him, and he understands me, just as
well as if he could talk."
Toto, at this, got up and rubbed his head
softly against Dorothy's hand, which she held
out to him, and he looked up into her face as if
he had understood every word she had said.
"This cat, Toto," she said to him, "is made
of glass, so you mustn't bother it, or chase it,
any more than you do my Pink Kitten. It's
prob'ly brittle and might break if it bumped
against anything."
"Woof!" said Toto, and that meant he understood.
The Glass Cat was so proud of her pink brains
that she ventured to come close to Dorothy, in
order that the girl might "see 'em work." This was
really interesting, but when Dorothy patted the
cat she found the glass cold and hard and
unresponsive, so she decided at once that Bungle
would never do for a pet.
"What do you know about the Crooked Magician who
lives on the mountain?" asked Dorothy.
"He made me," replied the cat; "so I know all
about him. The Patchwork Girl is new--three or
four days old--but I've lived with Dr. Pipt for
years; and, though I don't much care for him, I
will say that he has always refused to work magic
for any of the people who come to his house. He
thinks there's no harm in doing magic things for
his own family, and he made me out of glass
because the meat cats drink too much milk. He also
made Scraps come to life so she could do the
housework for his wife Margolotte."
"Then why did you both leave him?" asked
Dorothy.
"I think you'd better let me explain that,"
interrupted the Shaggy Man, and then he told
Dorothy all of Ojo's story and how Unc Nunkie and
Margolotte had accidentally been turned to marble
by the Liquid of Petrifaction. Then he related how
the boy had started out in search of the things
needed to make the magic charm, which would
restore the unfortunates to life, and how he had
found the Woozy and taken him along because he
could not pull the three hairs out of its tail.
Dorothy listened to all this with much interest,
and thought that so far Ojo had acted very well.
But when the Shaggy Man told her of the Munchkin
boy's arrest by the Soldier with the Green
Whiskers, because he was accused of wilfully
breaking a Law of Oz, the little girl was greatly
shocked.
"What do you s'pose he's done?" she asked.
"I fear he has picked a six-leaved clover,"
answered the Shaggy Man, sadly. "I did not see him
do it, and I warned him that to do so was against
the Law; but perhaps that is what he did,
nevertheless."
"I'm sorry 'bout that," said Dorothy gravely,
"for now there will be no one to help his poor
uncle and Margolotte 'cept this Patchwork Girl,
the Woozy and the Glass Cat."
"Don't mention it," said Scraps. "That's no
affair of mine. Margolotte and Unc Nunkie are
perfect strangers to me, for the moment I came
to life they came to marble."
"I see," remarked Dorothy with a sigh of
regret; "the woman forgot to give you a heart."
"I'm glad she did," retorted the Patchwork Girl.
"A heart must be a great annoyance to one. It
makes a person feel sad or sorry or devoted or
sympathetic--all of which sensations interfere with
one's happiness."
"I have a heart," murmured the Glass Cat.
"It's made of a ruby; but I don't imagine I shall
let it bother me about helping Unc Nunkie and
Margolotte."
"That's a pretty hard heart of yours," said
Dorothy. "And the Woozy, of course--"
"Why, as for me," observed the Woozy, who was
reclining on the floor with his legs doubled under
him, so that he looked much like a square box, "I
have never seen those unfortunate people you are
speaking of, and yet I am sorry for them, having
at times been unfortunate myself. When I was shut
up in that forest I longed for some one to help
me, and by and by Ojo came and did help me. So I'm
willing to help his uncle. I'm only a stupid
beast, Dorothy, but I can't help that, and if
you'll tell me what to do to help Ojo and his
uncle, I'll gladly do it."
Dorothy walked over and patted the Woozy on his
square head.
"You're not pretty," she said, "but I like you.
What are you able to do; anything 'special?"
"I can make my eyes flash fire--real fire--when
I'm angry. When anyone says: 'Krizzle-Kroo' to me
I get angry, and then my eyes flash fire."
"I don't see as fireworks could help Ojo's
uncle," remarked Dorothy. "Can you do anything
else?"
"I--I thought I had a very terrifying growl,"
said the Woozy, with hesitation; "but perhaps
I was mistaken."
"Yes," said the Shaggy Man, "you were certainly
wrong about that." Then he turned to Dorothy and
added: "What will become of the Munchkin boy?"
"I don't know," she said, shaking her head
thoughtfully. "Ozma will see him 'bout it, of
course, and then she'll punish him. But how,
I don't know, 'cause no one ever has been
punished in Oz since I knew anything about
the place. Too bad, Shaggy Man, isn't it?"
While they were talking Scraps had been
roaming around the room and looking at all
the pretty things it contained. She had carried
Ojo's basket in her hand, until now, when she
decided to see what was inside it. She found
the bread and cheese, which she had no use for,
and the bundle of charms, which were curious
but quite a mystery to her. Then, turning these
over, she came upon the six-leaved clover which
the boy had plucked.
Scraps was quick-witted, and although she had no
heart she recognized the fact that Ojo was her
first friend. She knew at once that because the
boy had taken the clover he had been imprisoned,
and she understood that Ojo had given her the
basket so they would not find the clover in his
possession and have proof of his crime. So,
turning her head to see that no one noticed her,
she took the clover from the basket and dropped it
into a golden vase that stood on Dorothy's table.
Then she came forward and said to Dorothy:
"I wouldn't care to help Ojo's uncle, but I
will help Ojo. He did not break the Law--no
one can prove he did--and that green-whiskered
soldier had no right to arrest him."
"Ozma ordered the boy's arrest," said Dorothy,
"and of course she knew what she was doing. But if
you can prove Ojo is innocent they will set him
free at once."
"They'll have to prove him guilty, won't
they?'' asked Scraps.
"I s'pose so."
"Well, they can't do that," declared the
Patchwork Girl.
As it was nearly time for Dorothy to dine with
Ozma, which she did every evening, she rang for a
servant and ordered the Woozy taken to a nice room
and given plenty of such food as he liked best.
"That's honey-bees," said the Woozy.
"You can't eat honey-bees, but you'll be given
something just as nice," Dorothy told him. Then
she had the Glass Cat taken to another room for
the night and the Patchwork Girl she kept in one
of her own rooms, for she was much interested in
the strange creature and wanted to talk with her
again and try to understand her better.
Chapter Seventeen
Ozma and Her Friends
The Shaggy Man had a room of his own in the royal
palace, so there he went to change his shaggy suit
of clothes for another just as shaggy but not so
dusty from travel. He selected a costume of
pea-green and pink satin and velvet, with
embroidered shags on all the edges and iridescent
pearls for ornaments. Then he bathed in an
alabaster pool and brushed his shaggy hair and
whiskers the wrong way to make them still more
shaggy. This accomplished, and arrayed in his
splendid shaggy garments, he went to Ozma's
banquet hall and found the Scarecrow, the Wizard
and Dorothy already assembled there. The Scarecrow
had made a quick trip and returned to the Emerald
City with his left ear freshly painted.
A moment later, while they all stood in waiting,
a servant threw open a door, the orchestra struck
up a tune and Ozma of Oz entered.
Much has been told and written concerning the
beauty of person and character of this sweet girl
Ruler of the Land of Oz--the richest, the happiest
and most delightful fairyland of which we have any
knowledge. Yet with all her queenly qualities Ozma
was a real girl and enjoyed the things in life
that other real girls enjoy. When she sat on her
splendid emerald throne in the great Throne Room
of her palace and made laws and settled disputes
and tried to keep all her subjects happy and
contented, she was as dignified and demure as any
queen might be; but when she had thrown aside her
jeweled robe of state and her sceptre, and had
retired to her private apartments, the girl--
joyous, light-hearted and free--replaced the
sedate Ruler.
In the banquet hall to-night were gathered
only old and trusted friends, so here Ozma was
herself--a mere girl. She greeted Dorothy with
a kiss, the Shaggy Man with a smile, the little
old Wizard with a friendly handshake and then
she pressed the Scarecrow's stuffed arm and
cried merrily:
"What a lovely left ear! Why, it's a hundred
times better than the old one."
"I'm glad you like it," replied the Scarecrow,
well pleased. "Jinjur did a neat job, didn't she?
And my hearing is now perfect. Isn't it wonderful
what a little paint will do, if it's properly
applied?"
"It really is wonderful," she agreed, as they
all took their seats; "but the Sawhorse must
have made his legs twinkle to have carried you so
far in one day. I didn't expect you back before
to-morrow, at the earliest."
"Well," said the Scarecrow, "I met a charming
girl on the road and wanted to see more of her, so
I hurried back."
Ozma laughed.
"I know," she returned; "it's the Patchwork
Girl. She is certainly bewildering, if not strictly
beautiful."
"Have you seen her, then?" the straw man eagerly
asked.
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