leaving an opening big enough for them all to pass through. Ojo broke
some branches from a tree and with them whipped the fire until it was
extinguished.
"We don't want to burn the whole fence down," said he, "for the flames
would attract the attention of the Munchkin farmers, who would then come
and capture the Woozy again. I guess they'll be rather surprised when
they find he's escaped."
"So they will," declared the Woozy, chuckling gleefully. "When they find
I'm gone the farmers will be badly scared, for they'll expect me to eat
up their honey-bees, as I did before."
"That reminds me," said the boy, "that you must promise not to eat
honey-bees while you are in our company."
"None at all?"
"Not a bee. You would get us all into trouble, and we can't afford to
have any more trouble than is necessary. I'll feed you all the bread and
cheese you want, and that must satisfy you."
"All right; I'll promise," said the Woozy, cheerfully. "And when I
promise anything you can depend on it, 'cause I'm square."
"I don't see what difference that makes," observed the Patchwork Girl,
as they found the path and continued their journey. "The shape doesn't
make a thing honest, does it?"
"Of course it does," returned the Woozy, very decidedly. "No one could
trust that Crooked Magician, for instance, just because he _is_ crooked;
but a square Woozy couldn't do anything crooked if he wanted to."
"I am neither square nor crooked," said Scraps, looking down at her
plump body.
"No; you're round, so you're liable to do anything," asserted the Woozy.
"Do not blame me, Miss Gorgeous, if I regard you with suspicion. Many a
satin ribbon has a cotton back."
Scraps didn't understand this, but she had an uneasy misgiving that she
had a cotton back herself. It would settle down, at times, and make her
squat and dumpy, and then she had to roll herself in the road until her
body stretched out again.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
SHAGGY MAN TO THE RESCUE
CHAP. 10
[Illustration]
They had not gone very far before Bungle, who had run on ahead, came
bounding back to say that the road of yellow bricks was just before
them. At once they hurried forward to see what this famous road looked
like.
It was a broad road, but not straight, for it wandered over hill and
dale and picked out the easiest places to go. All its length and breadth
was paved with smooth bricks of a bright yellow color, so it was smooth
and level except in a few places where the bricks had crumbled or been
removed, leaving holes that might cause the unwary to stumble.
"I wonder," said Ojo, looking up and down the road, "which way to go."
"Where are you bound for?" asked the Woozy.
"The Emerald City," he replied.
"Then go west," said the Woozy. "I know this road pretty well, for I've
chased many a honey-bee over it."
"Have you ever been to the Emerald City?" asked Scraps.
"No. I am very shy by nature, as you may have noticed, so I haven't
mingled much in society."
"Are you afraid of men?" inquired the Patchwork Girl.
"Me? With my heart-rending growl--my horrible, shudderful growl? I
should say not. I am not afraid of anything," declared the Woozy.
"I wish I could say the same," sighed Ojo. "I don't think we need be
afraid when we get to the Emerald City, for Unc Nunkie has told me that
Ozma, our girl Ruler, is very lovely and kind, and tries to help
everyone who is in trouble. But they say there are many dangers lurking
on the road to the great Fairy City, and so we must be very careful."
"I hope nothing will break me," said the Glass Cat, in a nervous voice.
"I'm a little brittle, you know, and can't stand many hard knocks."
"If anything should fade the colors of my lovely patches it would break
my heart," said the Patchwork Girl.
"I'm not sure you have a heart," Ojo reminded her.
"Then it would break my cotton," persisted Scraps. "Do you think they
are all fast colors, Ojo?" she asked anxiously.
"They seem fast enough when you run," he replied; and then, looking
ahead of them, he exclaimed: "Oh, what lovely trees!"
They were certainly pretty to look upon and the travelers hurried
forward to observe them more closely.
"Why, they are not trees at all," said Scraps; "they are just monstrous
plants."
That is what they really were: masses of great broad leaves which rose
from the ground far into the air, until they towered twice as high as
the top of the Patchwork Girl's head, who was a little taller than Ojo.
The plants formed rows on both sides of the road and from each plant
rose a dozen or more of the big broad leaves, which swayed continually
from side to side, although no wind was blowing. But the most curious
thing about the swaying leaves was their color. They seemed to have a
general groundwork of blue, but here and there other colors glinted at
times through the blue--gorgeous yellows, turning to pink, purple,
orange and scarlet, mingled with more sober browns and grays--each
appearing as a blotch or stripe anywhere on a leaf and then
disappearing, to be replaced by some other color of a different shape.
The changeful coloring of the great leaves was very beautiful, but it
was bewildering, as well, and the novelty of the scene drew our
travelers close to the line of plants, where they stood watching them
with rapt interest.
Suddenly a leaf bent lower than usual and touched the Patchwork Girl.
Swiftly it enveloped her in its embrace, covering her completely in its
thick folds, and then it swayed back upon its stem.
[Illustration]
"Why, she's gone!" gasped Ojo, in amazement, and listening carefully he
thought he could hear the muffled screams of Scraps coming from the
center of the folded leaf. But, before he could think what he ought to
do to save her, another leaf bent down and captured the Glass Cat,
rolling around the little creature until she was completely hidden, and
then straightening up again upon its stem.
"Look out," cried the Woozy. "Run! Run fast, or you are lost."
Ojo turned and saw the Woozy running swiftly up the road. But the last
leaf of the row of plants seized the beast even as he ran and instantly
he disappeared from sight.
The boy had no chance to escape. Half a dozen of the great leaves were
bending toward him from different directions and as he stood hesitating
one of them clutched him in its embrace. In a flash he was in the dark.
Then he felt himself gently lifted until he was swaying in the air, with
the folds of the leaf hugging him on all sides.
At first he struggled hard to escape, crying out in anger: "Let me go!
Let me go!" But neither struggles nor protests had any effect whatever.
The leaf held him firmly and he was a prisoner.
Then Ojo quieted himself and tried to think. Despair fell upon him when
he remembered that all his little party had been captured, even as he
was, and there was none to save them.
"I might have expected it," he sobbed, miserably. "I'm Ojo the Unlucky,
and something dreadful was sure to happen to me."
He pushed against the leaf that held him and found it to be soft, but
thick and firm. It was like a great bandage all around him and he found
it difficult to move his body or limbs in order to change their
position.
The minutes passed and became hours. Ojo wondered how long one could
live in such a condition and if the leaf would gradually sap his
strength and even his life, in order to feed itself. The little Munchkin
boy had never heard of any person dying in the Land of Oz, but he knew
one could suffer a great deal of pain. His greatest fear at this time
was that he would always remain imprisoned in the beautiful leaf and
never see the light of day again.
No sound came to him through the leaf; all around was intense silence.
Ojo wondered if Scraps had stopped screaming, or if the folds of the
leaf prevented his hearing her. By and by he thought he heard a whistle,
as of some one whistling a tune. Yes; it really must be some one
whistling, he decided, for he could follow the strains of a pretty
Munchkin melody that Unc Nunkie used to sing to him. The sounds were low
and sweet and, although they reached Ojo's ears very faintly, they were
clear and harmonious.
Could the leaf whistle, Ojo wondered? Nearer and nearer came the sounds
and then they seemed to be just the other side of the leaf that was
hugging him.
Suddenly the whole leaf toppled and fell, carrying the boy with it, and
while he sprawled at full length the folds slowly relaxed and set him
free. He scrambled quickly to his feet and found that a strange man was
standing before him--a man so curious in appearance that the boy stared
with round eyes.
He was a big man, with shaggy whiskers, shaggy eyebrows, shaggy
hair--but kindly blue eyes that were gentle as those of a cow. On his
head was a green velvet hat with a jeweled band, which was all shaggy
around the brim. Rich but shaggy laces were at his throat; a coat with
shaggy edges was decorated with diamond buttons; the velvet breeches had
jeweled buckles at the knees and shags all around the bottoms. On his
breast hung a medallion bearing a picture of Princess Dorothy of Oz, and
in his hand, as he stood looking at Ojo, was a sharp knife shaped like a
dagger.
"Oh!" exclaimed Ojo, greatly astonished at the sight of this stranger;
and then he added: "Who has saved me, sir?"
"Can't you see?" replied the other, with a smile; "I'm the Shaggy Man."
"Yes; I can see that," said the boy, nodding. "Was it you who rescued me
from the leaf?"
"None other, you may be sure. But take care, or I shall have to rescue
you again."
Ojo gave a jump, for he saw several broad leaves leaning toward him; but
the Shaggy Man began to whistle again, and at the sound the leaves all
straightened up on their stems and kept still.
The man now took Ojo's arm and led him up the road, past the last of the
great plants, and not till he was safely beyond their reach did he cease
his whistling.
"You see, the music charms 'em," said he. "Singing or whistling--it
doesn't matter which--makes 'em behave, and nothing else will. I always
whistle as I go by 'em and so they always let me alone. To-day as I went
by, whistling, I saw a leaf curled and knew there must be something
inside it. I cut down the leaf with my knife and--out you popped. Lucky
I passed by, wasn't it?"
"You were very kind," said Ojo, "and I thank you. Will you please rescue
my companions, also?"
"What companions?" asked the Shaggy Man.
"The leaves grabbed them all," said the boy. "There's a Patchwork Girl
and--"
"A what?"
"A girl made of patchwork, you know. She's alive and her name is Scraps.
And there's a Glass Cat--"
"Glass?" asked the Shaggy Man.
"All glass."
"And alive?"
"Yes," said Ojo; "she has pink brains. And there's a Woozy--"
"What's a Woozy?" inquired the Shaggy Man.
"Why, I--I--can't describe it," answered the boy, greatly perplexed.
"But it's a queer animal with three hairs on the tip of its tail that
won't come out and--"
"What won't come out?" asked the Shaggy Man; "the tail?"
"The hairs won't come out. But you'll see the Woozy, if you'll please
rescue it, and then you'll know just what it is."
[Illustration]
"Of course," said the Shaggy Man, nodding his shaggy head. And then he
walked back among the plants, still whistling, and found the three
leaves which were curled around Ojo's traveling companions. The first
leaf he cut down released Scraps, and on seeing her the Shaggy Man threw
back his shaggy head, opened wide his mouth and laughed so shaggily and
yet so merrily, that Scraps liked him at once. Then he took off his hat
and made her a low bow, saying:
"My dear, you're a wonder. I must introduce you to my friend the
Scarecrow."
When he cut down the second leaf he rescued the Glass Cat, and Bungle
was so frightened that she scampered away like a streak and soon had
joined Ojo, when she sat beside him panting and trembling. The last
plant of all the row had captured the Woozy, and a big bunch in the
center of the curled leaf showed plainly where he was. With his sharp
knife the Shaggy Man sliced off the stem of the leaf and as it fell and
unfolded out trotted the Woozy and escaped beyond the reach of any more
of the dangerous plants.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
A GOOD FRIEND
CHAP. 11.
[Illustration]
Soon the entire party was gathered on the road of yellow bricks, quite
beyond the reach of the beautiful but treacherous plants. The Shaggy
Man, staring first at one and then at the other, seemed greatly pleased
and interested.
"I've seen queer things since I came to the Land of Oz," said he, "but
never anything queerer than this band of adventurers. Let us sit down a
while, and have a talk and get acquainted."
"Haven't you always lived in the Land of Oz?" asked the Munchkin boy.
"No; I used to live in the big, outside world. But I came here once with
Dorothy, and Ozma let me stay."
"How do you like Oz?" asked Scraps. "Isn't the country and the climate
grand?"
"It's the finest country in all the world, even if it is a fairyland,
and I'm happy every minute I live in it," said the Shaggy Man. "But tell
me something about yourselves."
So Ojo related the story of his visit to the house of the Crooked
Magician, and how he met there the Glass Cat, and how the Patchwork Girl
was brought to life and of the terrible accident to Unc Nunkie and
Margolotte. Then he told how he had set out to find the five different
things which the Magician needed to make a charm that would restore the
marble figures to life, one requirement being three hairs from a Woozy's
tail.
"We found the Woozy," explained the boy, "and he agreed to give us the
three hairs; but we couldn't pull them out. So we had to bring the Woozy
along with us."
"I see," returned the Shaggy Man, who had listened with interest to the
story. "But perhaps I, who am big and strong, can pull those three hairs
from the Woozy's tail."
"Try it, if you like," said the Woozy.
So the Shaggy Man tried it, but pull as hard as he could he failed to
get the hairs out of the Woozy's tail. So he sat down again and wiped
his shaggy face with a shaggy silk handkerchief and said:
"It doesn't matter. If you can keep the Woozy until you get the rest of
the things you need, you can take the beast and his three hairs to the
Crooked Magician and let him find a way to extract 'em. What are the
other things you are to find?"
"One," said Ojo, "is a six-leaved clover."
"You ought to find that in the fields around the Emerald City," said the
Shaggy Man. "There is a Law against picking six-leaved clovers, but I
think I can get Ozma to let you have one."
"Thank you," replied Ojo. "The next thing is the left wing of a yellow
butterfly."
"For that you must go to the Winkie Country," the Shaggy Man declared.
"I've never noticed any butterflies there, but that is the yellow
country of Oz and it's ruled by a good friend of mine, the Tin Woodman."
"Oh, I've heard of him!" exclaimed Ojo. "He must be a wonderful man."
"So he is, and his heart is wonderfully kind. I'm sure the Tin Woodman
will do all in his power to help you to save your Unc Nunkie and poor
Margolotte."
"The next thing I must find," said the Munchkin boy, "is a gill of water
from a dark well."
"Indeed! Well, that is more difficult," said the Shaggy Man, scratching
his left ear in a puzzled way. "I've never heard of a dark well; have
you?"
"No," said Ojo.
"Do you know where one may be found?" inquired the Shaggy Man.
"I can't imagine," said Ojo.
"Then we must ask the Scarecrow."
"The Scarecrow! But surely, sir, a scarecrow can't know anything."
"Most scarecrows don't, I admit," answered the Shaggy Man. "But this
Scarecrow of whom I speak is very intelligent. He claims to possess the
best brains in all Oz."
"Better than mine?" asked Scraps.
"Better than mine?" echoed the Glass Cat. "Mine are pink, and you can
see 'em work."
"Well, you can't see the Scarecrow's brains work, but they do a lot of
clever thinking," asserted the Shaggy Man. "If anyone knows where a
dark well is, it's my friend the Scarecrow."
"Where does he live?" inquired Ojo.
"He has a splendid castle in the Winkie Country, near to the palace of
his friend the Tin Woodman, and he is often to be found in the Emerald
City, where he visits Dorothy at the royal palace."
"Then we will ask him about the dark well," said Ojo.
"But what else does this Crooked Magician want?" asked the Shaggy Man.
"A drop of oil from a live man's body."
"Oh; but there isn't such a thing."
"That is what I thought," replied Ojo; "but the Crooked Magician said it
wouldn't be called for by the recipe if it couldn't be found, and
therefore I must search until I find it."
"I wish you good luck," said the Shaggy Man, shaking his head
doubtfully; "but I imagine you'll have a hard job getting a drop of oil
from a live man's body. There's blood in a body, but no oil."
[Illustration: I HATE DIGNITY]
"There's cotton in mine," said Scraps, dancing a little jig.
"I don't doubt it," returned the Shaggy Man admiringly. "You're a
regular comforter and as sweet as patchwork can be. All you lack is
dignity."
"I hate dignity," cried Scraps, kicking a pebble high in the air and
then trying to catch it as it fell. "Half the fools and all the wise
folks are dignified, and I'm neither the one nor the other."
"She's just crazy," explained the Glass Cat.
The Shaggy Man laughed.
"She's delightful, in her way," he said. "I'm sure Dorothy will be
pleased with her, and the Scarecrow will dote on her. Did you say you
were traveling toward the Emerald City?"
"Yes," replied Ojo. "I thought that the best place to go, at first,
because the six-leaved clover may be found there."
"I'll go with you," said the Shaggy Man, "and show you the way."
"Thank you," exclaimed Ojo. "I hope it won't put you out any."
"No," said the other, "I wasn't going anywhere in particular. I've been
a rover all my life, and although Ozma has given me a suite of beautiful
rooms in her palace I still get the wandering fever once in a while and
start out to roam the country over. I've been away from the Emerald City
several weeks, this time, and now that I've met you and your friends I'm
sure it will interest me to accompany you to the great city of Oz and
introduce you to my friends."
"That will be very nice," said the boy, gratefully.
"I hope your friends are not dignified," observed Scraps.
"Some are, and some are not," he answered; "but I never criticise my
friends. If they are really true friends, they may be anything they
like, for all of me."
"There's some sense in that," said Scraps, nodding her queer head in
approval. "Come on, and let's get to the Emerald City as soon as
possible." With this she ran up the path, skipping and dancing, and then
turned to await them.
"It is quite a distance from here to the Emerald City," remarked the
Shaggy Man, "so we shall not get there to-day, nor to-morrow. Therefore
let us take the jaunt in an easy manner. I'm an old traveler and have
found that I never gain anything by being in a hurry. 'Take it easy' is
my motto. If you can't take it easy, take it as easy as you can."
After walking some distance over the road of yellow bricks Ojo said he
was hungry and would stop to eat some bread and cheese. He offered a
portion of the food to the Shaggy Man, who thanked him but refused it.
"When I start out on my travels," said he, "I carry along enough square
meals to last me several weeks. Think I'll indulge in one now, as long
as we're stopping anyway."
Saying this, he took a bottle from his pocket and shook from it a tablet
about the size of one of Ojo's finger-nails.
"That," announced the Shaggy Man, "is a square meal, in condensed form.
Invention of the great Professor Wogglebug, of the Royal College of
Athletics. It contains soup, fish, roast meat, salad, apple-dumplings,
ice cream and chocolate-drops, all boiled down to this small size, so it
can be conveniently carried and swallowed when you are hungry and need a
square meal."
"I'm square," said the Woozy. "Give me one, please."
So the Shaggy Man gave the Woozy a tablet from his bottle and the beast
ate it in a twinkling.
"You have now had a six course dinner," declared the Shaggy Man.
"Pshaw!" said the Woozy, ungratefully, "I want to taste something.
There's no fun in that sort of eating."
"One should only eat to sustain life," replied the Shaggy Man, "and that
tablet is equal to a peck of other food."
"I don't care for it. I want something I can chew and taste," grumbled
the Woozy.
"You are quite wrong, my poor beast," said the Shaggy Man in a tone of
pity. "Think how tired your jaws would get chewing a square meal like
this, if it were not condensed to the size of a small tablet--which you
can swallow in a jiffy."
"Chewing isn't tiresome; it's fun," maintained the Woozy. "I always chew
the honey-bees when I catch them. Give me some bread and cheese, Ojo."
"No, no! You've already eaten a big dinner!" protested the Shaggy Man.
"May be," answered the Woozy; "but I guess I'll fool myself by munching
some bread and cheese. I may not be hungry, having eaten all those
things you gave me, but I consider this eating business a matter of
taste, and I like to realize what's going into me."
Ojo gave the beast what he wanted, but the Shaggy Man shook his shaggy
head reproachfully and said there was no animal so obstinate or hard to
convince as a Woozy.
At this moment a patter of footsteps was heard, and looking up they saw
the live phonograph standing before them. It seemed to have passed
through many adventures since Ojo and his comrades last saw the machine,
for the varnish of its wooden case was all marred and dented and
scratched in a way that gave it an aged and disreputable appearance.
"Dear me!" exclaimed Ojo, staring hard. "What has happened to you?"
"Nothing much," replied the phonograph in a sad and depressed voice.
"I've had enough things thrown at me, since I left you, to stock a
department store and furnish half a dozen bargain-counters."
"Are you so broken up that you can't play?" asked Scraps.
"No; I still am able to grind out delicious music. Just now I've a
record on tap that is really superb," said the phonograph, growing more
cheerful.
"That is too bad," remarked Ojo. "We've no objection to you as a
machine, you know; but as a music-maker we hate you."
"Then why was I ever invented?" demanded the machine, in a tone of
indignant protest.
They looked at one another inquiringly, but no one could answer such a
puzzling question. Finally the Shaggy Man said:
"I'd like to hear the phonograph play."
Ojo sighed. "We've been very happy since we met you, sir," he said.
"I know. But a little misery, at times, makes one appreciate happiness
more. Tell me, Phony, what is this record like, which you say you have
on tap?"
"It's a popular song, sir. In all civilized lands the common people have
gone wild over it."
"Makes civilized folks wild folks, eh? Then it's dangerous."
"Wild with joy, I mean," explained the phonograph. "Listen. This song
will prove a rare treat to you, I know. It made the author rich--for an
author. It is called 'My Lulu.'"
Then the phonograph began to play. A strain of odd, jerky sounds was
followed by these words, sung by a man through his nose with great
vigor of expression:
"Ah want mah Lulu, mah cross-eyed Lulu;
Ah want mah loo-loo, loo-loo, loo-loo, Lu!
Ah love mah Lulu, mah cross-eyed Lulu,
There ain't nobody else loves loo-loo, Lu!"
"Here--shut that off!" cried the Shaggy Man, springing to his feet.
"What do you mean by such impertinence?"
"It's the latest popular song," declared the phonograph, speaking in a
sulky tone of voice.
"A popular song?"
"Yes. One that the feeble-minded can remember the words of and those
ignorant of music can whistle or sing. That makes a popular song
popular, and the time is coming when it will take the place of all other
songs."
"That time won't come to us, just yet," said the Shaggy Man, sternly:
"I'm something of a singer myself, and I don't intend to be throttled by
any Lulus like your cross-eyed one. I shall take you all apart, Mr.
Phony, and scatter your pieces far and wide over the country, as a
matter of kindness to the people you might meet if allowed to run around
loose. Having performed this painful duty I shall--"
But before he could say more the phonograph turned and dashed up the
road as fast as its four table-legs could carry it, and soon it had
entirely disappeared from their view.