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!"