invitation; for nowhere in the Land of Oz could I hope to meet with so
congenial a company."
"That is true," acknowledged the Pumpkinhead. "We are quite as
congenial as flies and honey."
"But--pardon me if I seem inquisitive--are you not all
rather--ahem!--rather unusual?" asked the Woggle-Bug, looking from one
to another with unconcealed interest.
"Not more so than yourself," answered the Scarecrow. "Everything in
life is unusual until you get accustomed to it."
"What rare philosophy!" exclaimed the Woggle-Bug, admiringly.
"Yes; my brains are working well today," admitted the Scarecrow, an
accent of pride in his voice.
"Then, if you are sufficiently rested and refreshed, let us bend our
steps toward the Emerald City," suggested the magnified one.
"We can't," said Tip. "The Saw-Horse has broken a leg, so he can't bend
his steps. And there is no wood around to make him a new limb from. And
we can't leave the horse behind because the Pumpkinhead is so stiff in
his joints that he has to ride."
"How very unfortunate!" cried the Woggle-Bug. Then he looked the party
over carefully and said:
"If the Pumpkinhead is to ride, why not use one of his legs to make a
leg for the horse that carries him? I judge that both are made of wood."
"Now, that is what I call real cleverness," said the Scarecrow,
approvingly. "I wonder my brains did not think of that long ago! Get to
work, my dear Nick, and fit the Pumpkinhead's leg to the Saw-Horse."
Jack was not especially pleased with this idea; but he submitted to
having his left leg amputated by the Tin Woodman and whittled down to
fit the left leg of the Saw-Horse. Nor was the Saw-Horse especially
pleased with the operation, either; for he growled a good deal about
being "butchered," as he called it, and afterward declared that the new
leg was a disgrace to a respectable Saw-Horse.
"I beg you to be more careful in your speech," said the Pumpkinhead,
sharply. "Remember, if you please, that it is my leg you are abusing."
"I cannot forget it," retorted the Saw-Horse, "for it is quite as
flimsy as the rest of your person."
"Flimsy! me flimsy!" cried Jack, in a rage. "How dare you call me
flimsy?"
"Because you are built as absurdly as a jumping-jack," sneered the
horse, rolling his knotty eyes in a vicious manner. "Even your head
won't stay straight, and you never can tell whether you are looking
backwards or forward!"
"Friends, I entreat you not to quarrel!" pleaded the Tin Woodman,
anxiously. "As a matter of fact, we are none of us above criticism; so
let us bear with each others' faults."
"An excellent suggestion," said the Woggle-Bug, approvingly. "You must
have an excellent heart, my metallic friend."
"I have," returned Nick, well pleased. "My heart is quite the best part
of me. But now let us start upon our journey."
They perched the one-legged Pumpkinhead upon the Saw-Horse, and tied
him to his seat with cords, so that he could not possibly fall off.
And then, following the lead of the Scarecrow, they all advanced in the
direction of the Emerald City.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration:
Old Mombi indulges
in Witchcraft
]
They soon discovered that the Saw-Horse limped, for his new leg was a
trifle too long. So they were obliged to halt while the Tin Woodman
chopped it down with his axe, after which the wooden steed paced along
more comfortably. But the Saw-Horse was not entirely satisfied, even
yet.
"It was a shame that I broke my other leg!" it growled.
"On the contrary," airily remarked the Woggle-Bug, who was walking
alongside, "you should consider the accident most fortunate. For a
horse is never of much use until he has been broken."
"I beg your pardon," said Tip, rather provoked, for he felt a warm
interest in both the Saw-Horse and his man Jack; "but permit me to say
that your joke is a poor one, and as old as it is poor."
"Still, it is a joke," declared the Woggle-Bug, firmly, "and a joke
derived from a play upon words is considered among educated people to
be eminently proper."
"What does that mean?" enquired the Pumpkinhead, stupidly.
"It means, my dear friend," explained the Woggle-Bug, "that our
language contains many words having a double meaning; and that to
pronounce a joke that allows both meanings of a certain word, proves
the joker a person of culture and refinement, who has, moreover, a
thorough command of the language."
"I don't believe that," said Tip, plainly; "anybody can make a pun."
"Not so," rejoined the Woggle-Bug, stiffly. "It requires education of
a high order. Are you educated, young sir?"
"Not especially," admitted Tip.
"Then you cannot judge the matter. I myself am Thoroughly Educated, and
I say that puns display genius. For instance, were I to ride upon this
Saw-Horse, he would not only be an animal--he would become an equipage.
For he would then be a horse-and-buggy."
At this the Scarecrow gave a gasp and the Tin Woodman stopped short
and looked reproachfully at the Woggle-Bug. At the same time the
Saw-Horse loudly snorted his derision; and even the Pumpkinhead put up
his hand to hide the smile which, because it was carved upon his face,
he could not change to a frown.
But the Woggle-Bug strutted along as if he had made some brilliant
remark, and the Scarecrow was obliged to say:
"I have heard, my dear friend, that a person can become over-educated;
and although I have a high respect for brains, no matter how they may
be arranged or classified, I begin to suspect that yours are slightly
tangled. In any event, I must beg you to restrain your superior
education while in our society."
"We are not very particular," added the Tin Woodman; "and we are
exceedingly kind hearted. But if your superior culture gets leaky
again--" He did not complete the sentence, but he twirled his gleaming
axe so carelessly that the Woggle-Bug looked frightened, and shrank
away to a safe distance.
The others marched on in silence, and the Highly-Magnified one, after
a period of deep thought, said in an humble voice:
"I will endeavor to restrain myself."
"That is all we can expect," returned the Scarecrow, pleasantly; and
good nature being thus happily restored to the party, they proceeded
upon their way.
When they again stopped to allow Tip to rest--the boy being the only
one that seemed to tire--the Tin Woodman noticed many small, round
holes in the grassy meadow.
"This must be a village of the Field Mice," he said to the Scarecrow.
"I wonder if my old friend, the Queen of the Mice, is in this
neighborhood."
"If she is, she may be of great service to us," answered the Scarecrow,
who was impressed by a sudden thought. "See if you can call her, my
dear Nick."
So the Tin Woodman blew a shrill note upon a silver whistle that hung
around his neck, and presently a tiny grey mouse popped from a near-by
hole and advanced fearlessly toward them. For the Tin Woodman had once
saved her life, and the Queen of the Field Mice knew he was to be
trusted.
"Good day, your Majesty," said Nick, politely addressing the mouse; "I
trust you are enjoying good health?"
"Thank you, I am quite well," answered the Queen, demurely, as she
sat up and displayed the tiny golden crown upon her head. "Can I do
anything to assist my old friends?"
"You can, indeed," replied the Scarecrow, eagerly. "Let me, I intreat
you, take a dozen of your subjects with me to the Emerald City."
"Will they be injured in any way?" asked the Queen, doubtfully.
"I think not," replied the Scarecrow. "I will carry them hidden in
the straw which stuffs my body, and when I give them the signal by
unbuttoning my jacket, they have only to rush out and scamper home
again as fast as they can. By doing this they will assist me to regain
my throne, which the Army of Revolt has taken from me."
"In that case," said the Queen, "I will not refuse your request.
Whenever you are ready, I will call twelve of my most intelligent
subjects."
"I am ready now," returned the Scarecrow. Then he lay flat upon the
ground and unbuttoned his jacket, displaying the mass of straw with
which he was stuffed.
The Queen uttered a little piping call, and in an instant a dozen
pretty field mice had emerged from their holes and stood before their
ruler, awaiting her orders.
What the Queen said to them none of our travelers could understand,
for it was in the mouse language; but the field mice obeyed without
hesitation, running one after the other to the Scarecrow and hiding
themselves in the straw of his breast.
When all of the twelve mice had thus concealed themselves, the
Scarecrow buttoned his jacket securely and then arose and thanked the
Queen for her kindness.
"One thing more you might do to serve us," suggested the Tin Woodman;
"and that is to run ahead and show us the way to the Emerald City. For
some enemy is evidently trying to prevent us from reaching it."
"I will do that gladly," returned the Queen. "Are you ready?"
The Tin Woodman looked at Tip.
"I'm rested," said the boy. "Let us start."
Then they resumed their journey, the little grey Queen of the Field
Mice running swiftly ahead and then pausing until the travelers drew
near, when away she would dart again.
Without this unerring guide the Scarecrow and his comrades might never
have gained the Emerald City; for many were the obstacles thrown in
their way by the arts of old Mombi. Yet not one of the obstacles really
existed--all were cleverly contrived deceptions. For when they came
to the banks of a rushing river that threatened to bar their way the
little Queen kept steadily on, passing through the seeming flood in
safety; and our travelers followed her without encountering a single
drop of water.
Again, a high wall of granite towered high above their heads and
opposed their advance. But the grey Field Mouse walked straight through
it, and the others did the same, the wall melting into mist as they
passed it.
Afterward, when they had stopped for a moment to allow Tip to rest,
they saw forty roads branching off from their feet in forty different
directions; and soon these forty roads began whirling around like a
mighty wheel, first in one direction and then in the other, completely
bewildering their vision.
But the Queen called for them to follow her and darted off in a
straight line; and when they had gone a few paces the whirling pathways
vanished and were seen no more.
Mombi's last trick was most fearful of all. She sent a sheet of
crackling flame rushing over the meadow to consume them; and for the
first time the Scarecrow became afraid and turned to fly.
"If that fire reaches me I will be gone in no time!" said he, trembling
until his straw rattled. "It's the most dangerous thing I ever
encountered."
"I'm off, too!" cried the Saw-Horse, turning and prancing with
agitation; "for my wood is so dry it would burn like kindlings."
"Is fire dangerous to pumpkins?" asked Jack, fearfully.
[Illustration]
"You'll be baked like a tart--and so will I!" answered the Woggle-Bug,
getting down on all fours so he could run the faster.
But the Tin Woodman, having no fear of fire, averted the stampede by a
few sensible words.
"Look at the Field Mouse!" he shouted. "The fire does not burn her in
the least. In fact, it is no fire at all, but only a deception."
Indeed, to watch the little Queen march calmly through the advancing
flames restored courage to every member of the party, and they followed
her without being even scorched.
"This is surely a most extraordinary adventure," said the Woggle-Bug,
who was greatly amazed; "for it upsets all the Natural Laws that I
heard Professor Nowitall teach in the school-house."
"Of course it does," said the Scarecrow, wisely. "All magic is
unnatural, and for that reason is to be feared and avoided. But I see
before us the gates of the Emerald City, so I imagine we have now
overcome all the magical obstacles that seemed to oppose us."
Indeed, the walls of the City were plainly visible, and the Queen of
the Field Mice, who had guided them so faithfully, came near to bid
them good-bye.
"We are very grateful to your Majesty for your kind assistance," said
the Tin Woodman, bowing before the pretty creature.
"I am always pleased to be of service to my friends," answered the
Queen, and in a flash she had darted away upon her journey home.
[Illustration]
[Illustration:
The Prisoners of the Queen
]
Approaching the gateway of the Emerald City the travelers found it
guarded by two girls of the Army of Revolt, who opposed their entrance
by drawing the knitting-needles from their hair and threatening to prod
the first that came near.
But the Tin Woodman was not afraid.
"At the worst they can but scratch my beautiful nickel-plate," he said.
"But there will be no 'worst,' for I think I can manage to frighten
these absurd soldiers very easily. Follow me closely, all of you!"
Then, swinging his axe in a great circle to right and left before
him, he advanced upon the gate, and the others followed him without
hesitation.
The girls, who had expected no resistance whatever, were terrified by
the sweep of the glittering axe and fled screaming into the city; so
that our travelers passed the gates in safety and marched down the
green marble pavement of the wide street toward the royal palace.
"At this rate we will soon have your Majesty upon the throne again,"
said the Tin Woodman, laughing at his easy conquest of the guards.
"Thank you, friend Nick," returned the Scarecrow, gratefully. "Nothing
can resist your kind heart and your sharp axe."
As they passed the rows of houses they saw through the open doors that
men were sweeping and dusting and washing dishes, while the women sat
around in groups, gossiping and laughing.
"What has happened?" the Scarecrow asked a sad-looking man with a bushy
beard, who wore an apron and was wheeling a baby-carriage along the
sidewalk.
"Why, we've had a revolution, your Majesty--as you ought to know very
well," replied the man; "and since you went away the women have been
running things to suit themselves. I'm glad you have decided to come
back and restore order, for doing housework and minding the children is
wearing out the strength of every man in the Emerald City."
"Hm!" said the Scarecrow, thoughtfully. "If it is such hard work as
you say, how did the women manage it so easily?"
"I really do not know," replied the man, with a deep sigh. "Perhaps the
women are made of cast-iron."
No movement was made, as they passed along the street, to oppose their
progress. Several of the women stopped their gossip long enough to cast
curious looks upon our friends, but immediately they would turn away
with a laugh or a sneer and resume their chatter. And when they met
with several girls belonging to the Army of Revolt, those soldiers,
instead of being alarmed or appearing surprised, merely stepped out of
the way and allowed them to advance without protest.
This action rendered the Scarecrow uneasy.
"I'm afraid we are walking into a trap," said he.
"Nonsense!" returned Nick Chopper, confidently; "the silly creatures
are conquered already!"
But the Scarecrow shook his head in a way that expressed doubt, and Tip
said:
"It's too easy, altogether. Look out for trouble ahead."
"I will," returned his Majesty.
[Illustration: "IT'S TOO EASY, ALTOGETHER."]
Unopposed they reached the royal palace and marched up the marble
steps, which had once been thickly encrusted with emeralds but were
now filled with tiny holes where the jewels had been ruthlessly torn
from their settings by the Army of Revolt. And so far not a rebel
barred their way.
Through the arched hallways and into the magnificent throne room
marched the Tin Woodman and his followers, and here, when the green
silken curtains fell behind them, they saw a curious sight.
Seated within the glittering throne was General Jinjur, with the
Scarecrow's second-best crown upon her head, and the royal sceptre in
her right hand. A box of caramels, from which she was eating, rested in
her lap, and the girl seemed entirely at ease in her royal surroundings.
The Scarecrow stepped forward and confronted her, while the Tin Woodman
leaned upon his axe and the others formed a half-circle back of his
Majesty's person.
"How dare you sit in my throne?" demanded the Scarecrow, sternly eyeing
the intruder. "Don't you know you are guilty of treason, and that there
is a law against treason?"
"The throne belongs to whoever is able to take it," answered Jinjur, as
she slowly ate another caramel. "I have taken it, as you see; so just
now I am the Queen, and all who oppose me are guilty of treason, and
must be punished by the law you have just mentioned."
This view of the case puzzled the Scarecrow.
"How is it, friend Nick?" he asked, turning to the Tin Woodman.
"Why, when it comes to Law, I have nothing to say," answered that
personage; "for laws were never meant to be understood, and it is
foolish to make the attempt."
"Then what shall we do?" asked the Scarecrow, in dismay.
"Why don't you marry the Queen? And then you can both rule," suggested
the Woggle-Bug.
Jinjur glared at the insect fiercely.
"Why don't you send her back to her mother, where she belongs?" asked
Jack Pumpkinhead.
Jinjur frowned.
"Why don't you shut her up in a closet until she behaves herself, and
promises to be good?" enquired Tip. Jinjur's lip curled scornfully.
"Or give her a good shaking!" added the Saw-Horse.
"No," said the Tin Woodman, "we must treat the poor girl with
gentleness. Let us give her all the jewels she can carry, and send her
away happy and contented."
At this Queen Jinjur laughed aloud, and the next minute clapped her
pretty hands together thrice, as if for a signal.
"You are very absurd creatures," said she; "but I am tired of your
nonsense and have no time to bother with you longer."
While the monarch and his friends listened in amazement to this
impudent speech, a startling thing happened. The Tin Woodman's axe was
snatched from his grasp by some person behind him, and he found himself
disarmed and helpless. At the same instant a shout of laughter rang in
the ears of the devoted band, and turning to see whence this came they
found themselves surrounded by the Army of Revolt, the girls bearing in
either hand their glistening knitting-needles. The entire throne room
seemed to be filled with the rebels, and the Scarecrow and his comrades
realized that they were prisoners.
"You see how foolish it is to oppose a woman's wit," said Jinjur,
gaily; "and this event only proves that I am more fit to rule the
Emerald City than a Scarecrow. I bear you no ill will, I assure you;
but lest you should prove troublesome to me in the future I shall order
you all to be destroyed. That is, all except the boy, who belongs
to old Mombi and must be restored to her keeping. The rest of you
are not human, and therefore it will not be wicked to demolish you.
The Saw-Horse and the Pumpkinhead's body I will have chopped up for
kindling-wood; and the pumpkin shall be made into tarts. The Scarecrow
will do nicely to start a bonfire, and the tin man can be cut into
small pieces and fed to the goats. As for this immense Woggle-Bug--"
"Highly Magnified, if you please!" interrupted the insect.
"I think I will ask the cook to make green-turtle soup of you,"
continued the Queen, reflectively.
The Woggle-Bug shuddered.
"Or, if that won't do, we might use you for a Hungarian goulash, stewed
and highly spiced," she added, cruelly.
This programme of extermination was so terrible that the prisoners
looked upon one another in a panic of fear. The Scarecrow alone did not
give way to despair. He stood quietly before the Queen and his brow was
wrinkled in deep thought as he strove to find some means to escape.
While thus engaged he felt the straw within his breast move gently. At
once his expression changed from sadness to joy, and raising his hand
he quickly unbuttoned the front of his jacket.
[Illustration]
This action did not pass unnoticed by the crowd of girls clustering
about him, but none of them suspected what he was doing until a tiny
grey mouse leaped from his bosom to the floor and scampered away
between the feet of the Army of Revolt. Another mouse quickly followed;
then another and another, in rapid succession. And suddenly such a
scream of terror went up from the Army that it might easily have filled
the stoutest heart with consternation. The flight that ensued turned to
a stampede, and the stampede to a panic.
For while the startled mice rushed wildly about the room the Scarecrow
had only time to note a whirl of skirts and a twinkling of feet as the
girls disappeared from the palace--pushing and crowding one another in
their mad efforts to escape.
The Queen, at the first alarm, stood up on the cushions of the throne
and began to dance frantically upon her tiptoes. Then a mouse ran up
the cushions, and with a terrified leap poor Jinjur shot clear over the
head of the Scarecrow and escaped through an archway--never pausing in
her wild career until she had reached the city gates.
So, in less time than I can explain, the throne room was deserted by
all save the Scarecrow and his friends, and the Woggle-Bug heaved a
deep sigh of relief as he exclaimed:
"Thank goodness, we are saved!"
"For a time, yes;" answered the Tin Woodman. "But the enemy will soon
return, I fear."
"Let us bar all the entrances to the palace!" said the Scarecrow. "Then
we shall have time to think what is best to be done."
So all except Jack Pumpkinhead, who was still tied fast to the
Saw-Horse, ran to the various entrances of the royal palace and closed
the heavy doors, bolting and locking them securely. Then, knowing that
the Army of Revolt could not batter down the barriers in several days,
the adventurers gathered once more in the throne room for a council of
war.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration:
The Scarecrow
Takes Time to Think
]
"It seems to me," began the Scarecrow, when all were again assembled in
the throne room, "that the girl Jinjur is quite right in claiming to be
Queen. And if she is right, then I am wrong, and we have no business to
be occupying her palace."
"But you were the King until she came," said the Woggle-Bug, strutting
up and down with his hands in his pockets; "so it appears to me that
she is the interloper instead of you."
"Especially as we have just conquered her and put her to flight," added
the Pumpkinhead, as he raised his hands to turn his face toward the
Scarecrow.
"Have we really conquered her?" asked the Scarecrow, quietly. "Look out
of the window, and tell me what you see."
Tip ran to the window and looked out.
"The palace is surrounded by a double row of girl soldiers," he
announced.
"I thought so," returned the Scarecrow. "We are as truly their
prisoners as we were before the mice frightened them from the palace."
"My friend is right," said Nick Chopper, who had been polishing his
breast with a bit of chamois-leather. "Jinjur is still the Queen, and
we are her prisoners."
"But I hope she cannot get at us," exclaimed the Pumpkinhead, with a
shiver of fear. "She threatened to make tarts of me, you know."
"Don't worry," said the Tin Woodman. "It cannot matter greatly. If you
stay shut up here you will spoil in time, anyway. A good tart is far
more admirable than a decayed intellect."
"Very true," agreed the Scarecrow.
"Oh, dear!" moaned Jack; "what an unhappy lot is mine! Why, dear
father, did you not make me out of tin--or even out of straw--so that
I would keep indefinitely."
"Shucks!" returned Tip, indignantly. "You ought to be glad that I made
you at all." Then he added, reflectively, "everything has to come to an
end, some time."
"But I beg to remind you," broke in the Woggle-Bug, who had a
distressed look in his bulging, round eyes, "that this terrible Queen
Jinjur suggested making a goulash of me--Me! the only Highly Magnified
and Thoroughly Educated Woggle-Bug in the wide, wide world!"
"I think it was a brilliant idea," remarked the Scarecrow, approvingly.
"Don't you imagine he would make a better soup?" asked the Tin Woodman,
turning toward his friend.
"Well, perhaps," acknowledged the Scarecrow.
The Woggle-Bug groaned.