find it."
The Magician looked at the little Munchkin boy in a doubtful way and
said:
"All this will mean a long journey for you; perhaps several long
journeys; for you must search through several of the different countries
of Oz in order to get the things I need."
"I know it, sir; but I must do my best to save Unc Nunkie."
"And also my poor wife Margolotte. If you save one you will save the
other, for both stand there together and the same compound will restore
them both to life. Do the best you can, Ojo, and while you are gone I
shall begin the six years' job of making a new batch of the Powder of
Life. Then, if you should unluckily fail to secure any one of the things
needed, I will have lost no time. But if you succeed you must return
here as quickly as you can, and that will save me much tiresome stirring
of four kettles with both feet and both hands."
"I will start on my journey at once, sir," said the boy.
"And I will go with you," declared the Patchwork Girl.
"No, no!" exclaimed the Magician. "You have no right to leave this
house. You are only a servant and have not been discharged."
Scraps, who had been dancing up and down the room, stopped and looked at
him.
"What is a servant?" she asked.
"One who serves. A--a sort of slave," he explained.
"Very well," said the Patchwork Girl, "I'm going to serve you and your
wife by helping Ojo find the things you need. You need a lot, you know,
such as are not easily found."
"It is true," sighed Dr. Pipt. "I am well aware that Ojo has undertaken
a serious task."
Scraps laughed, and resuming her dance she said:
"Here's a job for a boy of brains:
A drop of oil from a live man's veins;
A six-leaved clover; three nice hairs
From a Woozy's tail, the book declares
Are needed for the magic spell,
And water from a pitch-dark well.
The yellow wing of a butterfly
To find must Ojo also try,
And if he gets them without harm,
Doc Pipt will make the magic charm;
But if he doesn't get 'em, Unc
Will always stand a marble chunk."
The Magician looked at her thoughtfully.
"Poor Margolotte must have given you some of the quality of poesy, by
mistake," he said. "And, if that is true, I didn't make a very good
article when I prepared it, or else you got an overdose or an underdose.
However, I believe I shall let you go with Ojo, for my poor wife will
not need your services until she is restored to life. Also I think you
may be able to help the boy, for your head seems to contain some
thoughts I did not expect to find in it. But be very careful of
yourself, for you're a souvenir of my dear Margolotte. Try not to get
ripped, or your stuffing may fall out. One of your eyes seems loose, and
you may have to sew it on tighter. If you talk too much you'll wear out
your scarlet plush tongue, which ought to have been hemmed on the edges.
And remember you belong to me and must return here as soon as your
mission is accomplished."
"I'm going with Scraps and Ojo," announced the Glass Cat.
"You can't," said the Magician.
"Why not?"
"You'd get broken in no time, and you couldn't be a bit of use to the
boy and the Patchwork Girl."
"I beg to differ with you," returned the cat, in a haughty tone. "Three
heads are better than two, and my pink brains are beautiful. You can see
'em work."
"Well, go along," said the Magician, irritably. "You're only an
annoyance, anyhow, and I'm glad to get rid of you."
"Thank you for nothing, then," answered the cat, stiffly.
Dr. Pipt took a small basket from a cupboard and packed several things
in it. Then he handed it to Ojo.
"Here is some food and a bundle of charms," he said. "It is all I can
give you, but I am sure you will find friends on your journey who will
assist you in your search. Take care of the Patchwork Girl and bring her
safely back, for she ought to prove useful to my wife. As for the Glass
Cat--properly named Bungle--if she bothers you I now give you my
permission to break her in two, for she is not respectful and does not
obey me. I made a mistake in giving her the pink brains, you see."
Then Ojo went to Unc Nunkie and kissed the old man's marble face very
tenderly.
"I'm going to try to save you, Unc," he said, just as if the marble
image could hear him; and then he shook the crooked hand of the Crooked
Magician, who was already busy hanging the four kettles in the
fireplace, and picking up his basket left the house.
The Patchwork Girl followed him, and after them came the Glass Cat.
THE JOURNEY
CHAP. SIX
[Illustration]
Ojo had never traveled before and so he only knew that the path down the
mountainside led into the open Munchkin Country, where large numbers of
people dwelt. Scraps was quite new and not supposed to know anything of
the Land of Oz, while the Glass Cat admitted she had never wandered very
far away from the Magician's house. There was only one path before them,
at the beginning, so they could not miss their way, and for a time they
walked through the thick forest in silent thought, each one impressed
with the importance of the adventure they had undertaken.
Suddenly the Patchwork Girl laughed. It was funny to see her laugh,
because her cheeks wrinkled up, her nose tipped, her silver button eyes
twinkled and her mouth curled at the corners in a comical way.
"Has something pleased you?" asked Ojo, who was feeling solemn and
joyless through thinking upon his uncle's sad fate.
"Yes," she answered. "Your world pleases me, for it's a queer world, and
life in it is queerer still. Here am I, made from an old bed-quilt and
intended to be a slave to Margolotte, rendered free as air by an
accident that none of you could foresee. I am enjoying life and seeing
the world, while the woman who made me is standing helpless as a block
of wood. If that isn't funny enough to laugh at, I don't know what is."
"You're not seeing much of the world yet, my poor, innocent Scraps,"
remarked the Cat. "The world doesn't consist wholly of the trees that
are on all sides of us."
"But they're part of it; and aren't they pretty trees?" returned Scraps,
bobbing her head until her brown yarn curls fluttered in the breeze.
"Growing between them I can see lovely ferns and wild-flowers, and soft
green mosses. If the rest of your world is half as beautiful I shall be
glad I'm alive."
"I don't know what the rest of the world is like, I'm sure," said the
cat; "but I mean to find out."
"I have never been out of the forest," Ojo added; "but to me the trees
are gloomy and sad and the wild-flowers seem lonesome. It must be nicer
where there are no trees and there is room for lots of people to live
together."
"I wonder if any of the people we shall meet will be as splendid as I
am," said the Patchwork Girl. "All I have seen, so far, have pale,
colorless skins and clothes as blue as the country they live in, while I
am of many gorgeous colors--face and body and clothes. That is why I am
bright and contented, Ojo, while you are blue and sad."
"I think I made a mistake in giving you so many sorts of brains,"
observed the boy. "Perhaps, as the Magician said, you have an overdose,
and they may not agree with you."
"What had you to do with my brains?" asked Scraps.
"A lot," replied Ojo. "Old Margolotte meant to give you only a few--just
enough to keep you going--but when she wasn't looking I added a good
many more, of the best kinds I could find in the Magician's cupboard."
"Thanks," said the girl, dancing along the path ahead of Ojo and then
dancing back to his side. "If a few brains are good, many brains must be
better."
"But they ought to be evenly balanced," said the boy, "and I had no time
to be careful. From the way you're acting, I guess the dose was badly
mixed."
"Scraps hasn't enough brains to hurt her, so don't worry," remarked the
cat, which was trotting along in a very dainty and graceful manner. "The
only brains worth considering are mine, which are pink. You can see 'em
work."
After walking a long time they came to a little brook that trickled
across the path, and here Ojo sat down to rest and eat something from
his basket. He found that the Magician had given him part of a loaf of
bread and a slice of cheese. He broke off some of the bread and was
surprised to find the loaf just as large as it was before. It was the
same way with the cheese: however much he broke off from the slice, it
remained exactly the same size.
"Ah," said he, nodding wisely; "that's magic. Dr. Pipt has enchanted the
bread and the cheese, so it will last me all through my journey, however
much I eat."
"Why do you put those things into your mouth?" asked Scraps, gazing at
him in astonishment. "Do you need more stuffing? Then why don't you use
cotton, such as I am stuffed with?"
"I don't need that kind," said Ojo.
"But a mouth is to talk with, isn't it?"
"It is also to eat with," replied the boy. "If I didn't put food into my
mouth, and eat it, I would get hungry and starve."
"Ah, I didn't know that," she said. "Give me some."
Ojo handed her a bit of the bread and she put it in her mouth.
"What next?" she asked, scarcely able to speak.
"Chew it and swallow it," said the boy.
Scraps tried that. Her pearl teeth were unable to chew the bread and
beyond her mouth there was no opening. Being unable to swallow she threw
away the bread and laughed.
"I must get hungry and starve, for I can't eat," she said.
[Illustration]
"Neither can I," announced the cat; "but I'm not fool enough to try.
Can't you understand that you and I are superior people and not made
like these poor humans?"
"Why should I understand that, or anything else?" asked the girl. "Don't
bother my head by asking conundrums, I beg of you. Just let me discover
myself in my own way."
With this she began amusing herself by leaping across the brook and back
again.
"Be careful, or you'll fall in the water," warned Ojo.
"Never mind."
"You'd better. If you get wet you'll be soggy and can't walk. Your
colors might run, too," he said.
"Don't my colors run whenever I run?" she asked.
"Not in the way I mean. If they get wet, the reds and greens and yellows
and purples of your patches might run into each other and become just a
blur--no color at all, you know."
"Then," said the Patchwork Girl, "I'll be careful, for if I spoiled my
splendid colors I would cease to be beautiful."
"Pah!" sneered the Glass Cat, "such colors are not beautiful; they're
ugly, and in bad taste. Please notice that my body has no color at all.
I'm transparent, except for my exquisite red heart and my lovely pink
brains--you can see 'em work."
"Shoo--shoo--shoo!" cried Scraps, dancing around and laughing. "And your
horrid green eyes, Miss Bungle! You can't see your eyes, but we can, and
I notice you're very proud of what little color you have. Shoo, Miss
Bungle, shoo--shoo--shoo! If you were all colors and many colors, as I
am, you'd be too stuck up for anything." She leaped over the cat and
back again, and the startled Bungle crept close to a tree to escape her.
This made Scraps laugh more heartily than ever, and she said:
"Whoop-te-doodle-doo!
The cat has lost her shoe.
Her tootsie's bare, but she don't care,
So what's the odds to you?"
"Dear me, Ojo," said the cat; "don't you think the creature is a little
bit crazy?"
"It may be," he answered, with a puzzled look.
"If she continues her insults I'll scratch off her suspender-button
eyes," declared the cat.
"Don't quarrel, please," pleaded the boy, rising to resume the journey.
"Let us be good comrades and as happy and cheerful as possible, for we
are likely to meet with plenty of trouble on our way."
It was nearly sundown when they came to the edge of the forest and saw
spread out before them a delightful landscape. There were broad blue
fields stretching for miles over the valley, which was dotted everywhere
with pretty, blue domed houses, none of which, however, was very near to
the place where they stood. Just at the point where the path left the
forest stood a tiny house covered with leaves from the trees, and before
this stood a Munchkin man with an axe in his hand. He seemed very much
surprised when Ojo and Scraps and the Glass Cat came out of the woods,
but as the Patchwork Girl approached nearer he sat down upon a bench and
laughed so hard that he could not speak for a long time.
This man was a woodchopper and lived all alone in the little house. He
had bushy blue whiskers and merry blue eyes and his blue clothes were
quite old and worn.
"Mercy me!" exclaimed the woodchopper, when at last he could stop
laughing. "Who would think such a funny harlequin lived in the Land of
Oz? Where did you come from, Crazy-quilt?"
"Do you mean me?" asked the Patchwork Girl.
"Of course," he replied.
"You misjudge my ancestry. I'm not a crazy-quilt; I'm patchwork," she
said.
"There's no difference," he replied, beginning to laugh again. "When my
old grandmother sews such things together she calls it a crazy-quilt;
but I never thought such a jumble could come to life."
"It was the Magic Powder that did it," explained Ojo.
"Oh, then you have come from the Crooked Magician on the mountain. I
might have known it, for--Well, I declare! here's a glass cat. But the
Magician will get in trouble for this; it's against the law for anyone
to work magic except Glinda the Good and the royal Wizard of Oz. If you
people--or things--or glass spectacles--or crazy-quilts--or whatever you
are, go near the Emerald City, you'll be arrested."
"We're going there, anyhow," declared Scraps, sitting upon the bench and
swinging her stuffed legs.
"If any of us takes a rest,
We'll be arrested sure,
And get no restitution
'Cause the rest we must endure."
"I see," said the woodchopper, nodding; "you're as crazy as the
crazy-quilt you're made of."
"She really _is_ crazy," remarked the Glass Cat. "But that isn't to be
wondered at when you remember how many different things she's made of.
For my part, I'm made of pure glass--except my jewel heart and my pretty
pink brains. Did you notice my brains, stranger? You can see 'em work."
"So I can," replied the woodchopper; "but I can't see that they
accomplish much. A glass cat is a useless sort of thing, but a Patchwork
Girl is really useful. She makes me laugh, and laughter is the best
thing in life. There was once a woodchopper, a friend of mine, who was
made all of tin, and I used to laugh every time I saw him."
"A tin woodchopper?" said Ojo. "That is strange."
"My friend wasn't always tin," said the man, "but he was careless with
his axe, and used to chop himself very badly. Whenever he lost an arm or
a leg he had it replaced with tin; so after a while he was all tin."
"And could he chop wood then?" asked the boy.
"He could if he didn't rust his tin joints. But one day he met Dorothy
in the forest and went with her to the Emerald City, where he made his
fortune. He is now one of the favorites of Princess Ozma, and she has
made him the Emperor of the Winkies--the Country where all is yellow."
"Who is Dorothy?" inquired the Patchwork Girl.
"A little maid who used to live in Kansas, but is now a Princess of Oz.
She's Ozma's best friend, they say, and lives with her in the royal
palace."
"Is Dorothy made of tin?" inquired Ojo.
"Is she patchwork, like me?" inquired Scraps.
"No," said the man; "Dorothy is flesh, just as I am. I know of only one
tin person, and that is Nick Chopper, the Tin Woodman; and there will
never be but one Patchwork Girl, for any magician that sees you will
refuse to make another one like you."
"I suppose we shall see the Tin Woodman, for we are going to the Country
of the Winkies," said the boy.
"What for?" asked the woodchopper.
"To get the left wing of a yellow butterfly."
"It is a long journey," declared the man, "and you will go through
lonely parts of Oz and cross rivers and traverse dark forests before you
get there."
"Suits me all right," said Scraps. "I'll get a chance to see the
country."
"You're crazy, girl. Better crawl into a rag-bag and hide there; or give
yourself to some little girl to play with. Those who travel are likely
to meet trouble; that's why I stay at home."
[Illustration]
The woodchopper then invited them all to stay the night at his little
hut, but they were anxious to get on and so left him and continued along
the path, which was broader, now, and more distinct.
They expected to reach some other house before it grew dark, but the
twilight was brief and Ojo soon began to fear they had made a mistake in
leaving the woodchopper.
"I can scarcely see the path," he said at last. "Can you see it,
Scraps?"
"No," replied the Patchwork Girl, who was holding fast to the boy's arm
so he could guide her.
"I can see," declared the Glass Cat. "My eyes are better than yours, and
my pink brains--"
"Never mind your pink brains, please," said Ojo hastily; "just run ahead
and show us the way. Wait a minute and I'll tie a string to you; for
then you can lead us."
He got a string from his pocket and tied it around the cat's neck, and
after that the creature guided them along the path. They had proceeded
in this way for about an hour when a twinkling blue light appeared ahead
of them.
"Good! there's a house at last," cried Ojo. "When we reach it the good
people will surely welcome us and give us a night's lodging." But
however far they walked the light seemed to get no nearer, so by and by
the cat stopped short, saying:
"I think the light is traveling, too, and we shall never be able to
catch up with it. But here is a house by the roadside, so why go
farther?"
"Where is the house, Bungle?"
"Just here beside us, Scraps."
Ojo was now able to see a small house near the pathway. It was dark and
silent, but the boy was tired and wanted to rest, so he went up to the
door and knocked.
"Who is there?" cried a voice from within.
"I am Ojo the Unlucky, and with me are Miss Scraps Patchwork and the
Glass Cat," he replied.
"What do you want?" asked the Voice.
"A place to sleep," said Ojo.
"Come in, then; but don't make any noise, and you must go directly to
bed," returned the Voice.
Ojo unlatched the door and entered. It was very dark inside and he could
see nothing at all. But the cat exclaimed: "Why, there's no one here!"
"There must be," said the boy. "Some one spoke to me."
"I can see everything in the room," replied the cat, "and no one is
present but ourselves. But here are three beds, all made up, so we may
as well go to sleep."
"What is sleep?" inquired the Patchwork Girl.
"It's what you do when you go to bed," said Ojo.
"But why do you go to bed?" persisted the Patchwork Girl.
"Here, here! You are making altogether too much noise," cried the Voice
they had heard before. "Keep quiet, strangers, and go to bed."
The cat, which could see in the dark, looked sharply around for the
owner of the Voice, but could discover no one, although the Voice had
seemed close beside them. She arched her back a little and seemed
afraid. Then she whispered to Ojo: "Come!" and led him to a bed.
With his hands the boy felt of the bed and found it was big and soft,
with feather pillows and plenty of blankets. So he took off his shoes
and hat and crept into the bed. Then the cat led Scraps to another bed
and the Patchwork Girl was puzzled to know what to do with it.
"Lie down and keep quiet," whispered the cat, warningly.
"Can't I sing?" asked Scraps.
"No."
"Can't I whistle?" asked Scraps.
"No."
"Can't I dance till morning, if I want to?" asked Scraps.
"You must keep quiet," said the cat, in a soft voice.
"I don't want to," replied the Patchwork Girl, speaking as loudly as
usual. "What right have you to order me around? If I want to talk, or
yell, or whistle--"
Before she could say anything more an unseen hand seized her firmly and
threw her out of the door, which closed behind her with a sharp slam.
She found herself bumping and rolling in the road and when she got up
and tried to open the door of the house again she found it locked.
"What has happened to Scraps?" asked Ojo.
"Never mind. Let's go to sleep, or something will happen to us,"
answered the Glass Cat.
So Ojo snuggled down in his bed and fell asleep, and he was so tired
that he never wakened until broad daylight.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE TROUBLESOME PHONOGRAPH
CHAP. 7
[Illustration]
When the boy opened his eyes next morning he looked carefully around the
room. These small Munchkin houses seldom had more than one room in them.
That in which Ojo now found himself had three beds, set all in a row on
one side of it. The Glass Cat lay asleep on one bed, Ojo was in the
second, and the third was neatly made up and smoothed for the day. On
the other side of the room was a round table on which breakfast was
already placed, smoking hot. Only one chair was drawn up to the table,
where a place was set for one person. No one seemed to be in the room
except the boy and Bungle.
Ojo got up and put on his shoes. Finding a toilet stand at the head of
his bed he washed his face and hands and brushed his hair. Then he went
to the table and said:
"I wonder if this is my breakfast?"
"Eat it!" commanded a Voice at his side, so near that Ojo jumped. But no
person could he see.
He was hungry, and the breakfast looked good; so he sat down and ate all
he wanted. Then, rising, he took his hat and wakened the Glass Cat.
"Come on, Bungle," said he; "we must go."
He cast another glance about the room and, speaking to the air, he said:
"Whoever lives here has been kind to me, and I'm much obliged."
There was no answer, so he took his basket and went out the door, the
cat following him. In the middle of the path sat the Patchwork Girl,
playing with pebbles she had picked up.
"Oh, there you are!" she exclaimed cheerfully. "I thought you were never
coming out. It has been daylight a long time."
"What did you do all night?" asked the boy.
"Sat here and watched the stars and the moon," she replied. "They're
interesting. I never saw them before, you know."
"Of course not," said Ojo.
"You were crazy to act so badly and get thrown outdoors," remarked
Bungle, as they renewed their journey.
"That's all right," said Scraps. "If I hadn't been thrown out I wouldn't
have seen the stars, nor the big gray wolf."
"What wolf?" inquired Ojo.
"The one that came to the door of the house three times during the
night."
"I don't see why that should be," said the boy, thoughtfully; "there was
plenty to eat in that house, for I had a fine breakfast, and I slept in
a nice bed."
"Don't you feel tired?" asked the Patchwork Girl, noticing that the boy
yawned.
"Why, yes; I'm as tired as I was last night; and yet I slept very well."
"And aren't you hungry?"
"It's strange," replied Ojo. "I had a good breakfast, and yet I think
I'll now eat some of my crackers and cheese."
Scraps danced up and down the path. Then she sang:
"Kizzle-kazzle-kore;
The wolf is at the door,
There's nothing to eat but a bone without meat,
And a bill from the grocery store."
"What does that mean?" asked Ojo.
"Don't ask me," replied Scraps. "I say what comes into my head, but of
course I know nothing of a grocery store or bones without meat or--very
much else."
"No," said the cat; "she's stark, staring, raving crazy, and her brains
can't be pink, for they don't work properly."
"Bother the brains!" cried Scraps. "Who cares for 'em, anyhow? Have you
noticed how beautiful my patches are in this sunlight?"
Just then they heard a sound as of footsteps pattering along the path
behind them and all three turned to see what was coming. To their
astonishment they beheld a small round table running as fast as its four
spindle legs could carry it, and to the top was screwed fast a
phonograph with a big gold horn.
[Illustration]
"Hold on!" shouted the phonograph. "Wait for me!"
"Goodness me; it's that music thing which the Crooked Magician scattered
the Powder of Life over," said Ojo.
"So it is," returned Bungle, in a grumpy tone of voice; and then, as the
phonograph overtook them, the Glass Cat added sternly: "What are you
doing here, anyhow?"
"I've run away," said the music thing. "After you left, old Dr. Pipt and
I had a dreadful quarrel and he threatened to smash me to pieces if I
didn't keep quiet. Of course I wouldn't do that, because a
talking-machine is supposed to talk and make a noise--and sometimes
music. So I slipped out of the house while the Magician was stirring his
four kettles and I've been running after you all night. Now that I've
found such pleasant company, I can talk and play tunes all I want to."
Ojo was greatly annoyed by this unwelcome addition to their party. At
first he did not know what to say to the newcomer, but a little thought
decided him not to make friends.
"We are traveling on important business," he declared, "and you'll
excuse me if I say we can't be bothered."