a fire on the hearth. The fire delighted Scraps, who danced before it
until Ojo warned her she might set fire to herself and burn up. After
that the Patchwork Girl kept at a respectful distance from the darting
flames, but the Woozy lay down before the fire like a big dog and
seemed to enjoy its warmth.
For supper the Shaggy Man ate one of his tablets, but Ojo stuck to his
bread and cheese as the most satisfying food. He also gave a portion to
the Woozy.
When darkness came on and they sat in a circle on the cabin floor,
facing the firelight--there being no furniture of any sort in the
place--Ojo said to the Shaggy Man:
"Won't you tell us a story?"
"I'm not good at stories," was the reply; "but I sing like a bird."
"Raven, or crow?" asked the Glass Cat.
"Like a song bird. I'll prove it. I'll sing a song I composed myself.
Don't tell anyone I'm a poet; they might want me to write a book. Don't
tell 'em I can sing, or they'd want me to make records for that awful
phonograph. Haven't time to be a public benefactor, so I'll just sing
you this little song for your own amusement."
They were glad enough to be entertained, and listened with interest
while the Shaggy Man chanted the following verses to a tune that was
not unpleasant:
"I'll sing a song of Ozland, where wondrous creatures dwell
And fruits and flowers and shady bowers abound in every dell,
Where magic is a science and where no one shows surprise
If some amazing thing takes place before his very eyes.
Our Ruler's a bewitching girl whom fairies love to please;
She's always kept her magic sceptre to enforce decrees
To make her people happy, for her heart is kind and true
And to aid the needy and distressed is what she longs to do.
And then there's Princess Dorothy, as sweet as any rose,
A lass from Kansas, where they don't grow fairies, I suppose;
And there's the brainy Scarecrow, with a body stuffed with straw,
Who utters words of wisdom rare that fill us all with awe.
I'll not forget Nick Chopper, the Woodman made of Tin,
Whose tender heart thinks killing time is quite a dreadful sin,
Nor old Professor Woggle-Bug, who's highly magnified
And looks so big to everyone that he is filled with pride.
Jack Pumpkinhead's a dear old chum who might be called a chump,
But won renown by riding round upon a magic Gump;
The Sawhorse is a splendid steed and though he's made of wood
He does as many thrilling stunts as any meat horse could.
And now I'll introduce a beast that ev'ryone adores--
The Cowardly Lion shakes with fear 'most ev'ry time he roars,
And yet he does the bravest things that any lion might,
Because he knows that cowardice is not considered right.
There's Tik-Tok--he's a clockwork man and quite a funny sight--
He talks and walks mechanically, when he's wound up tight;
And we've a Hungry Tiger who would babies love to eat
But never does because we feed him other kinds of meat.
It's hard to name all of the freaks this noble Land's acquired;
'Twould make my song so very long that you would soon be tired;
But give attention while I mention one wise Yellow Hen
And Nine fine Tiny Piglets living in a golden pen.
Just search the whole world over--sail the seas from coast to coast--
No other nation in creation queerer folk can boast;
And now our rare museum will include a Cat of Glass,
A Woozy, and--last but not least--a crazy Patchwork Lass."
Ojo was so pleased with this song that he applauded the singer by
clapping his hands, and Scraps followed suit by clapping her padded
fingers together, although they made no noise. The cat pounded on the
floor with her glass paws--gently, so as not to break them--and the
Woozy, which had been asleep, woke up to ask what the row was about.
"I seldom sing in public, for fear they might want me to start an opera
company," remarked the Shaggy Man, who was pleased to know his effort
was appreciated. "Voice, just now, is a little out of training; rusty,
perhaps."
"Tell me," said the Patchwork Girl earnestly, "do all those queer
people you mention really live in the Land of Oz?"
"Every one of 'em. I even forgot one thing: Dorothy's Pink Kitten."
"For goodness sake!" exclaimed Bungle, sitting up and looking
interested. "A Pink Kitten? How absurd! Is it glass?"
"No; just ordinary kitten."
"Then it can't amount to much. I have pink brains, and you can see 'em
work."
"Dorothy's kitten is all pink--brains and all--except blue eyes. Name's
Eureka. Great favorite at the royal palace," said the Shaggy Man,
yawning.
The Glass Cat seemed annoyed.
"Do you think a pink kitten--common meat--is as pretty as I am?" she
asked.
"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.