In Search of a Brave Man
The Cowardly Lion was familiar with all the forests in Oz, and though
the one through which he was passing was so dense that, even in the
morning, only a dim light filtered through the trees, he had no
difficulty finding his way. In the center of this forest lived a small
colony of woodcutters, and the Cowardly Lion was heading straight for
this colony, roaring and growling to keep up his courage. The more he
thought about devouring a brave man, the faster he ran. The thing would
have to be done quickly or not at all--quickly before his heart failed
him entirely. As the hollow blows of an ax came echoing through the
stillness, a shiver ran down his back and, when a sudden leap brought
him almost upon a tall Munchkin forester, he stopped altogether.
At the sound of the crackling branches, the man turned, but when he saw
the new comer was a lion, he calmly went on with his work.
"There's bravery for you," gulped the Cowardly Lion to himself. Now was
his chance, for the man's back was turned. But it was no use; he simply
could not spring on a man brave enough to turn his back, so instead he
sighed heavily and sat down.
"How's the hunting?" asked the woodcutter gruffly, after he had brought
down his tree.
"Why, not very good, thank you," replied the lion pensively. This was
worse still. Could one eat up a man in the middle of a conversation?
"Well, now that's too bad." The woodcutter mopped his brow and turned
'round slowly.
"Tell me," asked the lion, blinking his eyes unhappily, "are you a
brave man?"
"Well, that," pondered the woodcutter, sitting down on a stump and
wiping off his ax with a bunch of leaves, "that I hardly know."
"Don't you think talking to a lion is pretty brave?" asked the great
beast hopefully. He gathered himself for a spring. If the man said yes,
he would certainly eat him up and have an end to this disagreeable
business. But instead, the woodcutter regarded him closely.
"Say!" he burst out, hopping to his feet and giving the Cowardly Lion
a resounding whack on the back, "say, this is an honor. Sorry I didn't
recognize you at once. Boys!" He raised his voice joyfully, "Boys,
here's the good old Cowardly Lion, the Cowardly Lion himself. Come
on out. We've often heard about you," explained the big man, fairly
beaming upon the embarrassed lion, "but as none of us ever go to the
Emerald City this is the first we've seen of you. How is the Scarecrow
and Ozma, and how's Princess Dorothy? You see, even though we live in
the woods, we know all about you famous folks."
The Cowardly Lion put his paw to his head and tried to think. It was
upsetting to have a man you intended to devour so frightfully polite.
"How did you know I was the Cowardly Lion?" he asked in a husky voice.
"Why, first I thought you were like any other lion, then I saw you
were all of a tremble, and I says to myself, says I, 'Wilby, my lad,
you're looking straight at this famous Cowardly Lion of Oz.' I tell you
it's a proud day for me. To think I'm talking face to face with a lion
who has saved his country as many times as you have. I declare now,
it's a pleasure."
Before the Cowardly Lion could answer, a dozen more woodcutters came
running toward them and when he had been introduced by Wilby Whut
to each woodcutter in turn, and to the wives and children of each
woodcutter, he had neither the breath nor the inclination to devour
anybody. The children hastily wove him a flower chain and crowed with
delight when he trotted them about on his back. The women brought out
their choicest meats and dishes of honey to refresh him, while the men
sat around and listened solemnly to all he had to say of doings in the
Emerald City. Why, there had not been such a holiday in the forest
since the wicked Witch of the West had been destroyed by little Dorothy.
The Cowardly Lion, ashamed of the dreadful purpose that had brought him
to the forest, outdid himself to entertain them. And so enchanted were
the kindly woodcutters with his conversation that he could not tear
himself away until late in the afternoon.
"I'll never be able to eat a woodcutter," groaned the Cowardly Lion,
trotting slowly along in the gathering dusk. "Never after the way they
have treated me. I'll have to find some other sort of brave person to
swallow." Scraps' advice was proving difficult right at the start, and
very thoughtfully the Cowardly Lion continued his journey.
It was night time when he reached the edge of the forest--night time
and not a brave man in sight. But in the southern part of the Munchkin
Country there are many great mountains and among the sturdy Munchkin
mountaineers surely there would be a brave man. So the lion, who did
not mind at all traveling in the dark, ran steadily toward the south,
through quiet little villages, through fragrant fields and meadows,
even swimming the broad and turbulent Munchkin river. It was rather
lonely, and he wished Dorothy or Sir Hokus of Pokes were along, but he
well knew that neither would approve of his plan for acquiring courage.
He was not sure that he approved of it himself, but he kept on arguing
in his head and shuddering in his heart, and sighing because he was
so great a coward. Just as the sun rose he came upon a brave man,
asleep under a blue rose bush. He knew he must be brave, because he was
dressed as a huntsman and beside him lay a terrible-looking gun.
The Cowardly Lion's heart began to thump like a triphammer, for he was
much afraid of guns. But it did not seem at all fair to swallow a man
in his sleep and, though he trembled so violently he could scarcely
stand, he determined to waken the huntsman and to ascertain at the same
time whether he were brave enough for his purpose. Gathering himself
together as best he could, he sprang upon the sleeping huntsman. There
was a crackle and snap as if he had stepped upon a pillow stuffed with
twigs. Then an ear splitting shriek flattened back the Cowardly Lion's
ears and fairly curdled his blood. At the same time his tail was seized
from behind, and twisted terrifically.
"Help! Help!" screamed the huntsman, trying to rise.
"Ouch, Stop!" roared the Cowardly Lion, while the person who had hold
of his tail screamed in seven different keys. The Cowardly Lion removed
his paw from the huntsman's chest. "Are you a brave man?" he asked in a
quavering voice.
"Not very," chattered the huntsman, jumping up and backing cautiously
toward a tree.
"Well, you don't sound brave," continued the lion in a relieved voice.
"A brave man would not call for help. Let go of my tail, little boy.
It's all a mistake. I don't want this huntsman after all."
"He's not a huntsman," wailed the little boy, running over and clasping
the man around the knees.
"Not a huntsman?" roared the Cowardly Lion, waving his tail very fast.
"Then what--"
"I'm a clown, you rude monster," spluttered the man indignantly.
A clown! Well, I should say--and none other than our old friend Notta
Bit More. Snatching off his hat and false whiskers, he swung Bob Up
into a tree and nimbly followed himself. When they were both seated on
a branch, far above the ground, he looked anxiously through the leaves
to see what the lion would do next. "Never saw such a country for
lions!" he puffed resentfully.
The lion, with one paw shading his eyes, was looking up at them. "Are
you afraid?" he called pleasantly. "Are you afraid? Well, don't be, for
being a coward myself makes me very sympathetic." At the word coward
Notta almost fell from the tree.
"Bob," whispered the clown hoarsely, "it's the Cowardly Lion himself!
Now we mustn't let him know we're going to capture him."
"He's a very bad lion," interrupted Bob Up tearfully. "He tried to bite
you!"
"What say?" called the lion, who could only hear an indistinct
muttering.
"He says you are a very bad lion," repeated Notta, looking seriously at
the great creature below.
"He's right," sighed the lion dolefully. "I am a bad lion. A good lion
would have eaten you up by this time, but a bad lion often makes a good
friend. Come on down. It was all a mistake."
"Are you a friend of Dorothy's?" asked Bob, leaning far out over the
branch. At mention of Dorothy, the Cowardly Lion gave a guilty little
jump.
"Well, I should say so. Are you friends of Dorothy's?"
"No, but we're from the same country," said the clown, "and if you're
quite sure you don't want to eat me up, we'd like to ask you a few
questions."
"I've never eaten a man in my life," roared the Cowardly Lion, rolling
his eyes sadly.
"Then why start on me?" asked Notta, scratching his ear and winking at
Bob Up. Now that the incident was over it struck him as terribly funny
to be perched in a tree conversing with the Cowardly Lion. He wished
some of his old pals in the circus could see him. He'd never expect
them to believe it otherwise. So Notta and Bob climbed down and the
three regarded each other with frank interest.
The Cowardly Lion had never seen a clown and the clown had never seen
a Cowardly Lion, so there was much to be explained and accounted for.
First, Notta told of their sudden transportation to Mudge, of Doorways,
and everything else except Mustafa's determination to have them capture
the Cowardly Lion himself. They were on their way, explained the clown,
to the Emerald City to see whether or not Dorothy could find a way to
send them back to the United States.
"Ozma can do that very easily with her magic belt," said the lion, "but
I will go with you, for Oz is full of dangers for mortal folks like
you, and Dorothy would not want anything to happen to anyone from her
country, I am very sure." He then told them a lot about the marvelous
land of Oz, with its four big countries and its many little ones.
"This," roared the Cowardly Lion with a sweep of his paw, "is the
Munchkin Country. To the north is the Kingdom of the Gillikens, to
the west is the Winkie Country and to the south the Quadling Country,
ruled over by the good sorceress, Glinda. But all of Oz is under the
rule of Ozma."
Bob's eyes grew rounder and rounder as he told them how Dorothy was
first blown to Oz by a cyclone, of her discovery of the Scarecrow, how
she had lifted him down his pole and, with the Cowardly Lion and Tin
Woodman, traveled to the Emerald City, then ruled over by the Wizard
of Oz. Then he told how Ozma, the little fairy ruler, who was the real
Queen of Oz, had been found and placed upon the throne. Then came
the story of Scraps and Sir Hokus and of Tik Tok, and of every other
amazing person living in the amazing Emerald City.
When the Cowardly Lion paused for breath Bob was jumping up and down
with excitement. "Oh, I do want to see Dorothy and the Scarecrow! Let's
hurry," cried the little orphan, throwing his arms 'round the Cowardly
Lion's neck. The kind old Cowardly Lion blinked with pleasure.
"I'm glad you did that," he rumbled in a husky voice, "for now I know
that you trust me, and have forgotten all about that unfortunate
mistake!"
"But why did you ask if I was brave?" mused the clown, who could
scarcely believe that this merry little boy hugging the Cowardly Lion
was the same Bobbie Downs who had fallen into Mudge.
"Because," the lion swallowed self-consciously, "because I am looking
for the bravest man in Oz."
"What will you do when you find him?" asked Notta, carefully folding up
his huntsman suit and powdering his nose with another marshmallow.
"Now, don't ask me that, please." The Cowardly Lion raised his paw
pleadingly and looked so uncomfortable Notta dropped the subject at
once. He felt a little uncomfortable himself, for he had determined, as
soon as the opportunity presented itself, to tie up the great creature
and somehow or other deliver him to Mustafa. What else could he do? The
clown sighed regretfully, for already he had taken a great fancy to the
Cowardly Lion. But fancy or not, one could not risk turning blue, and
he had Bob Up to think of. To gain the lion's confidence he decided to
travel with him for a while toward the Emerald City and, so long as
they did that with the fixed purpose of capturing the Cowardly Lion,
Mustafa's ring could not turn black.
Notta said nothing of his plans to Bob, for the boy was so happy at the
thought of visiting the Emerald City, and so delighted with this new
and interesting friend, he hated to spoil a bit of his pleasure. So he
merely opened another pack of Mustafa's sandwiches and they all had a
cheerful breakfast together. Then, with Bob proudly riding the lion,
they started off once again toward the north.
"Would you mind telling me why you pretended to be a huntsman?" asked
the Cowardly Lion. He had been looking sideways at Notta for some time,
trying to puzzle the thing out for himself.
"Not at all," chuckled the clown, chinning himself on the branch of
a tree. "I disguised myself as a huntsman to frighten off any wild
animals while we were asleep. I always disguise myself when there is
danger in the wind--don't I, Bobbie?" The little boy nodded his head
solemnly.
"Does it help?" asked the Cowardly Lion in an interested voice. Bob
Up looked thoughtful, but as the clown nodded emphatically, he said
nothing. It seemed to Bob that Notta always picked the wrong disguise,
but the clown was so confident and cheerful about it he could not bear
to discourage him. So he listened politely while Notta explained his
rules of disguise, politeness, joke and run. When he had finished the
Cowardly Lion shook his head.
"I suppose," said he, half closing his eyes, "that you cannot help your
disguises any more than I can help my cowardice."
"It isn't that I am afraid," explained Notta hastily, "but I can fight
better when I'm not looking like myself. When I look like myself I feel
funny and when I feel funny, I can't fight."
"Well, with me," said the Cowardly Lion, who like most of us enjoyed
talking about himself, "the funnier I look, the harder I fight. So
don't frighten me, I beg of you, for when I'm frightened I fight
terrifically."
"I'll remember what you say," said Notta, turning a somersault, and
wondering uneasily what the Cowardly Lion would do when he tried to
capture him. But the thought of being captured never entered the
lion's head. He was rather glad to have the two strangers turn up this
way. It postponed that disagreeable business of eating a brave man. Of
course, if they should run across one on the journey, well enough, but
first it was his plain duty to conduct this clown and little boy safely
to the Emerald City.
Notta was so cheerful and jolly and made so much fun out of everything
that the Cowardly Lion felt repaid for any trouble he was taking
and Bob Up had not been so happy since they had fallen into this
bewildering country. Toward noon, as the sun grew rather hot, the
Cowardly Lion turned into a small inviting wood which he felt was a
short cut to the yellow brick road. But on the very first tree, a large
sign made them pause. The sign said, "Twenty trees to U."
"I never heard of any country called U," mumbled the Cowardly Lion,
blinking up at the sign in surprise.
"There was one just like this on the road we came down yesterday," said
Notta. "Bob and I wondered what it stood for."
"Well, I don't know," mused the lion. "That's the queer thing about Oz.
Even old residents like myself are often amazed to find new countries
and peoples where we never expected to find them. According to the maps
there are only scattered farms between here and the Emerald City. But
so long as we have to go through this wood, we might as well see what U
stands for."
Bob was the first to discover that every now and then the trees were
numbered and, following them in the order of their numbers, took them
deeper and deeper into the forest. When they reached the tree numbered
nineteen, they were alarmed to note that all the other numbers that had
guided them had disappeared. The wood had meanwhile grown so dense
that they could hardly push on and, when Notta suggested that they go
back, they found they had lost the way entirely. The Cowardly Lion
was full of stickers and thorns and, while Bob picked them out of his
woolly mane, the clown climbed the nineteenth tree to make a little
survey of the country.
With a shout he came scrambling down. "There's a clearing just beyond,
and I think I made out twenty on the tree in the center," puffed Notta.
"Come on!" The clown was growing more interested in this strange
country every minute. He could hardly wait to see what was going to
happen next.
"Let me go first. My hide doesn't tear as easily as yours," said the
Cowardly Lion, and he began pushing through the heavy thicket in the
direction pointed out by Notta. Holding up their arms to protect their
faces, the others followed and in almost no time had come out on a
small clearing.
As they looked the clown clutched Bob, while the Cowardly Lion blinked
with astonishment. The twentieth tree was knitting furiously, holding
in its long fingers nearly a hundred gleaming needles, and bending its
witchy head every once in a while to examine the great, cloudy net
that flowed all around it. For some moments they watched in puzzled
silence. Then Bob screamed, the Cowardly Lion roared and Notta gasped
with alarm. For the net suddenly swooped down and scooped them up like
a school of fish. The tree gave a disagreeable little laugh, quickly
knitted the top of the net together and, lifting all its branches at
once, tossed the luckless travelers high over its head.
Miraculously, as it struck the air, the big porous bag filled out like
a balloon and went sailing upward at a terrible rate--the Cowardly
Lion, Bob Up and Notta rolling over and over in the bottom and bumping
and banging together in a most painful and unpleasant fashion.