Tip awoke soon after dawn, but the Scarecrow had already risen and
plucked, with his clumsy fingers, a double-handful of ripe berries from
some bushes near by. These the boy ate greedily, finding them an ample
breakfast, and afterward the little party resumed its Journey.
After an hour’s ride they reached the summit of a hill from whence they
espied the City of the Winkies and noted the tall domes of the
Emperor’s palace rising from the clusters of more modest dwellings.
The Scarecrow became greatly animated at this sight, and exclaimed:
“How delighted I shall be to see my old friend the Tin Woodman again! I
hope that he rules his people more successfully than I have ruled
mine!”
“Is the Tin Woodman the Emperor of the Winkies?” asked the horse.
“Yes, indeed. They invited him to rule over them soon after the Wicked
Witch was destroyed; and as Nick Chopper has the best heart in all the
world I am sure he has proved an excellent and able emperor.”
“I thought that ‘Emperor’ was the title of a person who rules an
empire,” said Tip, “and the Country of the Winkies is only a Kingdom.”
“Don’t mention that to the Tin Woodman!” exclaimed the Scarecrow,
earnestly. “You would hurt his feelings terribly. He is a proud man, as
he has every reason to be, and it pleases him to be termed Emperor
rather than King.”
“I’m sure it makes no difference to me,” replied the boy.
The Saw-Horse now ambled forward at a pace so fast that its riders had
hard work to stick upon its back; so there was little further
conversation until they drew up beside the palace steps.
An aged Winkie, dressed in a uniform of silver cloth, came forward to
assist them to alight. Said the Scarecrow to his personage:
“Show us at once to your master, the Emperor.”
The man looked from one to another of the party in an embarrassed way,
and finally answered:
“I fear I must ask you to wait for a time. The Emperor is not receiving
this morning.”
“How is that?” enquired the Scarecrow, anxiously. “I hope nothing has
happened to him.”
“Oh, no; nothing serious,” returned the man. “But this is his Majesty’s
day for being polished; and just now his august presence is thickly
smeared with putz-pomade.”
“Oh, I see!” cried the Scarecrow, greatly reassured. “My friend was
ever inclined to be a dandy, and I suppose he is now more proud than
ever of his personal appearance.”
“He is, indeed,” said the man, with a polite bow. “Our mighty Emperor
has lately caused himself to be nickel-plated.”
“Good Gracious!” the Scarecrow exclaimed at hearing this. “If his wit
bears the same polish, how sparkling it must be! But show us in—I’m
sure the Emperor will receive us, even in his present state”
“The Emperor’s state is always magnificent,” said the man. “But I will
venture to tell him of your arrival, and will receive his commands
concerning you.”
So the party followed the servant into a splendid ante-room, and the
Saw-Horse ambled awkwardly after them, having no knowledge that a horse
might be expected to remain outside.
The travelers were at first somewhat awed by their surroundings, and
even the Scarecrow seemed impressed as he examined the rich hangings of
silver cloth caught up into knots and fastened with tiny silver axes.
Upon a handsome center-table stood a large silver oil-can, richly
engraved with scenes from the past adventures of the Tin Woodman,
Dorothy, the Cowardly Lion and the Scarecrow: the lines of the
engraving being traced upon the silver in yellow gold. On the walls
hung several portraits, that of the Scarecrow seeming to be the most
prominent and carefully executed, while a the large painting of the
famous Wizard of Oz, in act of presenting the Tin Woodman with a heart,
covered almost one entire end of the room.
While the visitors gazed at these things in silent admiration they
suddenly heard a loud voice in the next room exclaim:
“Well! well! well! What a great surprise!”
And then the door burst open and Nick Chopper rushed into their midst
and caught the Scarecrow in a close and loving embrace that creased him
into many folds and wrinkles.
[Illustration: image141]
“My dear old friend! My noble comrade!” cried the Tin Woodman,
joyfully. “how delighted! I am to meet you once again.”
And then he released the Scarecrow and held him at arms’ length while
he surveyed the beloved, painted features.
But, alas! the face of the Scarecrow and many portions of his body bore
great blotches of putz-pomade; for the Tin Woodman, in his eagerness to
welcome his friend, had quite forgotten the condition of his toilet and
had rubbed the thick coating of paste from his own body to that of his
comrade.
“Dear me!” said the Scarecrow dolefully. “What a mess I’m in!”
“Never mind, my friend,” returned the Tin Woodman, “I’ll send you to my
Imperial Laundry, and you’ll come out as good as new.”
“Won’t I be mangled?” asked the Scarecrow.
“No, indeed!” was the reply. “But tell me, how came your Majesty here?
and who are your companions?”
The Scarecrow, with great politeness, introduced Tip and Jack
Pumpkinhead, and the latter personage seemed to interest the Tin
Woodman greatly.
“You are not very substantial, I must admit,” said the Emperor. “but
you are certainly unusual, and therefore worthy to become a member of
our select society.”
[Illustration: image143]
“I thank your Majesty,” said Jack, humbly.
“I hope you are enjoying good health?” continued the Woodman.
“At present, yes;” replied the Pumpkinhead, with a sigh; “but I am in
constant terror of the day when I shall spoil.”
“Nonsense!” said the Emperor—but in a kindly, sympathetic tone. “Do
not, I beg of you, dampen today’s sun with the showers of tomorrow. For
before your head has time to spoil you can have it canned, and in that
way it may be preserved indefinitely.”
Tip, during this conversation, was looking at the Woodman with
undisguised amazement, and noticed that the celebrated Emperor of the
Winkies was composed entirely of pieces of tin, neatly soldered and
riveted together into the form of a man. He rattled and clanked a
little, as he moved, but in the main he seemed to be most cleverly
constructed, and his appearance was only marred by the thick coating of
polishing-paste that covered him from head to foot.
The boy’s intent gaze caused the Tin Woodman to remember that he was
not in the most presentable condition, so he begged his friends to
excuse him while he retired to his private apartment and allowed his
servants to polish him. This was accomplished in a short time, and when
the emperor returned his nickel-plated body shone so magnificently that
the Scarecrow heartily congratulated him on his improved appearance.
“That nickel-plate was, I confess, a happy thought,” said Nick; “and it
was the more necessary because I had become somewhat scratched during
my adventurous experiences. You will observe this engraved star upon my
left breast. It not only indicates where my excellent heart lies, but
covers very neatly the patch made by the Wonderful Wizard when he
placed that valued organ in my breast with his own skillful hands.”
“Is your heart, then, a hand-organ?” asked the Pumpkinhead, curiously.
“By no means,” responded the emperor, with dignity. “It is, I am
convinced, a strictly orthodox heart, although somewhat larger and
warmer than most people possess.”
Then he turned to the Scarecrow and asked:
“Are your subjects happy and contented, my dear friend?”
“I cannot, say” was the reply. “for the girls of Oz have risen in
revolt and driven me out of the emerald City.”
“Great Goodness!” cried the Tin Woodman, “What a calamity! They surely
do not complain of your wise and gracious rule?”
“No; but they say it is a poor rule that don’t work both ways,”
answered the Scarecrow; “and these females are also of the opinion that
men have ruled the land long enough. So they have captured my city,
robbed the treasury of all its jewels, and are running things to suit
themselves.”
“Dear me! What an extraordinary idea!” cried the Emperor, who was both
shocked and surprised.
“And I heard some of them say,” said Tip, “that they intend to march
here and capture the castle and city of the Tin Woodman.”
“Ah! we must not give them time to do that,” said the Emperor, quickly;
“we will go at once and recapture the Emerald City and place the
Scarecrow again upon his throne.”
“I was sure you would help me,” remarked the Scarecrow in a pleased
voice. “How large an army can you assemble?”
“We do not need an army,” replied the Woodman. “We four, with the aid
of my gleaming axe, are enough to strike terror into the hearts of the
rebels.”
“We five,” corrected the Pumpkinhead.
“Five?” repeated the Tin Woodman.
“Yes; the Saw-Horse is brave and fearless,” answered Jack, forgetting
his recent quarrel with the quadruped.
The Tin Woodman looked around him in a puzzled way, for the Saw-Horse
had until now remained quietly standing in a corner, where the Emperor
had not noticed him. Tip immediately called the odd-looking creature to
them, and it approached so awkwardly that it nearly upset the beautiful
center-table and the engraved oil-can.
“I begin to think,” remarked the Tin Woodman as he looked earnestly at
the Saw-Horse, “that wonders will never cease! How came this creature
alive?”
“I did it with a magic powder,” modestly asserted the boy. “and the
Saw-Horse has been very useful to us.”
“He enabled us to escape the rebels,” added the Scarecrow.
“Then we must surely accept him as a comrade,” declared the emperor. “A
live Saw-Horse is a distinct novelty, and should prove an interesting
study. Does he know anything?”
“Well, I cannot claim any great experience in life,” the Saw-Horse
answered for himself. “but I seem to learn very quickly, and often it
occurs to me that I know more than any of those around me.”
“Perhaps you do,” said the emperor; “for experience does not always
mean wisdom. But time is precious just now, so let us quickly make
preparations to start upon our Journey.”
[Illustration: image146]
The emperor called his Lord High Chancellor and instructed him how to
run the kingdom during his absence. Meanwhile the Scarecrow was taken
apart and the painted sack that served him for a head was carefully
laundered and restuffed with the brains originally given him by the
great Wizard. His clothes were also cleaned and pressed by the Imperial
tailors, and his crown polished and again sewed upon his head, for the
Tin Woodman insisted he should not renounce this badge of royalty. The
Scarecrow now presented a very respectable appearance, and although in
no way addicted to vanity he was quite pleased with himself and
strutted a trifle as he walked. While this was being done Tip mended
the wooden limbs of Jack Pumpkinhead and made them stronger than
before, and the Saw-Horse was also inspected to see if he was in good
working order.
Then bright and early the next morning they set out upon the return
Journey to the emerald City, the Tin Woodman bearing upon his shoulder
a gleaming axe and leading the way, while the Pumpkinhead rode upon the
Saw-Horse and Tip and the Scarecrow walked upon either side to make
sure that he didn’t fall off or become damaged.
[Illustration: image149]
[Illustration: image150]
[Illustration: image152]
Mr. H. M. Woggle-Bug, T. E.
Now, General Jinjur—who, you will remember, commanded the Army of
Revolt—was rendered very uneasy by the escape of the Scarecrow from the
Emerald City. She feared, and with good reason, that if his Majesty and
the Tin Woodman Joined forces, it would mean danger to her and her
entire army; for the people of Oz had not yet forgotten the deeds of
these famous heroes, who had passed successfully through so many
startling adventures.
So Jinjur sent post-haste for old Mombi, the witch, and promised her
large rewards if she would come to the assistance of the rebel army.
Mombi was furious at the trick Tip had played upon her as well as at
his escape and the theft of the precious Powder of Life; so she needed
no urging to induce her to travel to the Emerald City to assist Jinjur
in defeating the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman, who had made Tip one of
their friends.
Mombi had no sooner arrived at the royal palace than she discovered, by
means of her secret magic, that the adventurers were starting upon
their Journey to the Emerald City; so she retired to a small room high
up in a tower and locked herself in while she practised such arts as
she could command to prevent the return of the Scarecrow and his
companions.
That was why the Tin Woodman presently stopped and said:
“Something very curious has happened. I ought to know by heart and
every step of this Journey, yet I fear we have already lost our way.”
“That is quite impossible!” protested the Scarecrow. “Why do you think,
my dear friend, that we have gone astray?”
“Why, here before us is a great field of sunflowers—and I never saw
this field before in all my life.”
At these words they all looked around, only to find that they were
indeed surrounded by a field of tall stalks, every stalk bearing at its
top a gigantic sunflower. And not only were these flowers almost
blinding in their vivid hues of red and gold, but each one whirled
around upon its stalk like a miniature wind-mill, completely dazzling
the vision of the beholders and so mystifying them that they knew not
which way to turn.
“It’s witchcraft!” exclaimed Tip.
While they paused, hesitating and wondering, the Tin Woodman uttered a
cry of impatience and advanced with swinging axe to cut down the stalks
before him. But now the sunflowers suddenly stopped their rapid
whirling, and the travelers plainly saw a girl’s face appear in the
center of each flower. These lovely faces looked upon the astonished
band with mocking smiles, and then burst into a chorus of merry
laughter at the dismay their appearance caused.
“Stop! stop!” cried Tip, seizing the Woodman’s arm; “they’re alive!
they’re girls!”
At that moment the flowers began whirling again, and the faces faded
away and were lost in the rapid revolutions.
The Tin Woodman dropped his axe and sat down upon the ground.
“It would be heartless to chop down those pretty creatures,” said he,
despondently. “and yet I do not know how else we can proceed upon our
way”
“They looked to me strangely like the faces of the Army of Revolt,”
mused the Scarecrow. “But I cannot conceive how the girls could have
followed us here so quickly.”
“I believe it’s magic,” said Tip, positively, “and that someone is
playing a trick upon us. I’ve known old Mombi do things like that
before. Probably it’s nothing more than an illusion, and there are no
sunflowers here at all.”
“Then let us shut our eyes and walk forward,” suggested the Woodman.
“Excuse me,” replied the Scarecrow. “My eyes are not painted to shut.
Because you happen to have tin eyelids, you must not imagine we are all
built in the same way.”
“And the eyes of the Saw-Horse are knot eyes,” said Jack, leaning
forward to examine them.
“Nevertheless, you must ride quickly forward,” commanded Tip, “and we
will follow after you and so try to escape. My eyes are already so
dazzled that I can scarcely see.”
So the Pumpkinhead rode boldly forward, and Tip grasped the stub tail
of the Saw-Horse and followed with closed eyes. The Scarecrow and the
Tin Woodman brought up the rear, and before they had gone many yards a
Joyful shout from Jack announced that the way was clear before them.
Then all paused to look backward, but not a trace of the field of
sunflowers remained.
More cheerfully, now they proceeded upon their Journey; but old Mombi
had so changed the appearance of the landscape that they would surely
have been lost had not the Scarecrow wisely concluded to take their
direction from the sun. For no witch-craft could change the course of
the sun, and it was therefore a safe guide.
However, other difficulties lay before them. The Saw-Horse stepped into
a rabbit hole and fell to the ground. The Pumpkinhead was pitched high
into the air, and his history would probably have ended at that exact
moment had not the Tin Woodman skillfully caught the pumpkin as it
descended and saved it from injury.
[Illustration: image156]
Tip soon had it fitted to the neck again and replaced Jack upon his
feet. But the Saw-Horse did not escape so easily. For when his leg was
pulled from the rabbit hole it was found to be broken short off, and
must be replaced or repaired before he could go a step farther.
“This is quite serious,” said the Tin Woodman. “If there were trees
near by I might soon manufacture another leg for this animal; but I
cannot see even a shrub for miles around.”
“And there are neither fences nor houses in this part of the land of
Oz,” added the Scarecrow, disconsolately.
“Then what shall we do?” enquired the boy.
“I suppose I must start my brains working,” replied his Majesty the
Scarecrow; “for experience has, taught me that I can do anything if I
but take time to think it out.”
“Let us all think,” said Tip; “and perhaps we shall find a way to
repair the Saw-Horse.”
[Illustration: image158]
So they sat in a row upon the grass and began to think, while the
Saw-Horse occupied itself by gazing curiously upon its broken limb.
“Does it hurt?” asked the Tin Woodman, in a soft, sympathetic voice.
“Not in the least,” returned the Saw-Horse; “but my pride is injured to
find that my anatomy is so brittle.”
For a time the little group remained in silent thought. Presently the
Tin Woodman raised his head and looked over the fields.
“What sort of creature is that which approaches us?” he asked,
wonderingly.
The others followed his gaze, and discovered coming toward them the
most extraordinary object they had ever beheld. It advanced quickly and
noiselessly over the soft grass and in a few minutes stood before the
adventurers and regarded them with an astonishment equal to their own.
[Illustration: image159]
The Scarecrow was calm under all circumstances.
“Good morning!” he said, politely.
The stranger removed his hat with a flourish, bowed very low, and then
responded:
“Good morning, one and all. I hope you are, as an aggregation, enjoying
excellent health. Permit me to present my card.”
With this courteous speech it extended a card toward the Scarecrow, who
accepted it, turned it over and over, and handed it with a shake of his
head to Tip.
The boy read aloud:
“MR. H. M. WOGGLE-BUG, T. E.”
“Dear me!” ejaculated the Pumpkinhead, staring somewhat intently.
“How very peculiar!” said the Tin Woodman.
Tip’s eyes were round and wondering, and the Saw-Horse uttered a sigh
and turned away its head.
“Are you really a Woggle-Bug?” enquired the Scarecrow.
“Most certainly, my dear sir!” answered the stranger, briskly. “Is not
my name upon the card?”
“It is,” said the Scarecrow. “But may I ask what ‘H. M.’ stands for?”
“‘H. M.’ means Highly Magnified,” returned the Woggle-Bug, proudly.
“Oh, I see.” The Scarecrow viewed the stranger critically. “And are
you, in truth, highly magnified?”
“Sir,” said the Woggle-Bug, “I take you for a gentleman of judgment and
discernment. Does it not occur to you that I am several thousand times
greater than any Woggle-Bug you ever saw before? Therefore it is
plainly evident that I am Highly Magnified, and there is no good reason
why you should doubt the fact.”
“Pardon me,” returned the Scarecrow. “My brains are slightly mixed
since I was last laundered. Would it be improper for me to ask, also,
what the ‘T.E.’ at the end of your name stands for?”
“Those letters express my degree,” answered the Woggle-Bug, with a
condescending smile. “To be more explicit, the initials mean that I am
Thoroughly Educated.”
“Oh!” said the Scarecrow, much relieved.
Tip had not yet taken his eyes off this wonderful personage. What he
saw was a great, round, buglike body supported upon two slender legs
which ended in delicate feet—the toes curling upward. The body of the
Woggle-Bug was rather flat, and judging from what could be seen of it
was of a glistening dark brown color upon the back, while the front was
striped with alternate bands of light brown and white, blending
together at the edges. Its arms were fully as slender as its legs, and
upon a rather long neck was perched its head—not unlike the head of a
man, except that its nose ended in a curling antenna, or “feeler,” and
its ears from the upper points bore antennae that decorated the sides
of its head like two miniature, curling pig tails. It must be admitted
that the round, black eyes were rather bulging in appearance; but the
expression upon the Woggle-Bug’s face was by no means unpleasant.
For dress the insect wore a dark-blue swallowtail coat with a yellow
silk lining and a flower in the button-hole; a vest of white duck that
stretched tightly across the wide body; knickerbockers of fawn-colored
plush, fastened at the knees with gilt buckles; and, perched upon its
small head, was jauntily set a tall silk hat.
Standing upright before our amazed friends the Woggle-Bug appeared to
be fully as tall as the Tin Woodman; and surely no bug in all the Land
of Oz had ever before attained so enormous a size.
“I confess,” said the Scarecrow, “that your abrupt appearance has
caused me surprise, and no doubt has startled my companions. I hope,
however, that this circumstance will not distress you. We shall
probably get used to you in time.”
“Do not apologize, I beg of you!” returned the Woggle-Bug, earnestly.
“It affords me great pleasure to surprise people; for surely I cannot
be classed with ordinary insects and am entitled to both curiosity and
admiration from those I meet.”
“You are, indeed,” agreed his Majesty.
“If you will permit me to seat myself in your august company,”
continued the stranger, “I will gladly relate my history, so that you
will be better able to comprehend my unusual—may I say
remarkable?—appearance.”
“You may say what you please,” answered the Tin Woodman, briefly.
So the Woggle-Bug sat down upon the grass, facing the little group of
wanderers, and told them the following story:
[Illustration: image164]
[Illustration: image165]