The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Marvelous Land Of Oz, by L. Frank Baum.

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The best splash pads for 12 year olds under 50 dollarsMarvelous Land of Oz

by L. Frank Baum

Author’s Note

After the publication of “The Wonderful Wizard of OZ” I began toreceive letters from children, telling me of their pleasure in reading thestory and asking me to “write something more” about the Scarecrowand the Tin Woodman. At first I considered these little letters, frank andearnest though they were, in the light of pretty compliments; but the letterscontinued to come during succeeding months, and even years.

Finally I promised one little girl, who made a long journey to see me andprefer her request,—and she is a “Dorothy,” by theway—that when a thousand little girls had written me a thousand littleletters asking for the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman I would write the book,Either little Dorothy was a fairy in disguise, and waved her magic wand, or thesuccess of the stage production of “The Wizard of OZ” made newfriends for the story, For the thousand letters reached their destination longsince—and many more followed them.

And now, although pleading guilty to long delay, I have kept my promise in thisbook.

L. FRANK BAUM.

Chicago, June, 1904

To those excellent good fellows and comedians David C. Montgomery and Frank A.Stone whose clever personations of the Tin Woodman and the Scarecrow havedelighted thousands of children throughout the land, this book is gratefullydedicated by THE AUTHOR

LIST OF CHAPTERS

Tip Manufactures a Pumpkinhead

In the Country of the Gillikins, which is at the North of the Land of Oz, liveda youth called Tip. There was more to his name than that, for old Mombi oftendeclared that his whole name was Tippetarius; but no one was expected to saysuch a long word when “Tip” would do just as well.

This boy remembered nothing of his parents, for he had been brought when quiteyoung to be reared by the old woman known as Mombi, whose reputation, I amsorry to say, was none of the best. For the Gillikin people had reason tosuspect her of indulging in magical arts, and therefore hesitated to associatewith her.

Mombi was not exactly a Witch, because the Good Witch who ruled that part ofthe Land of Oz had forbidden any other Witch to exist in her dominions. SoTip’s guardian, however much she might aspire to working magic, realizedit was unlawful to be more than a Sorceress, or at most a Wizardess.

Tip was made to carry wood from the forest, that the old woman might boil herpot. He also worked in the corn-fields, hoeing and husking; and he fed the pigsand milked the four-horned cow that was Mombi’s especial pride.

But you must not suppose he worked all the time, for he felt that would be badfor him. When sent to the forest Tip often climbed trees for birds’ eggsor amused himself chasing the fleet white rabbits or fishing in the brooks withbent pins. Then he would hastily gather his armful of wood and carry it home.And when he was supposed to be working in the corn-fields, and the tall stalkshid him from Mombi’s view, Tip would often dig in the gopher holes, or ifthe mood seized him—lie upon his back between the rows of corn and take anap. So, by taking care not to exhaust his strength, he grew as strong andrugged as a boy may be.

Mombi’s curious magic often frightened her neighbors, and they treatedher shyly, yet respectfully, because of her weird powers. But Tip frankly hatedher, and took no pains to hide his feelings. Indeed, he sometimes showed lessrespect for the old woman than he should have done, considering she was hisguardian.

There were pumpkins in Mombi’s corn-fields, lying golden red among therows of green stalks; and these had been planted and carefully tended that thefour-horned cow might eat of them in the winter time. But one day, after thecorn had all been cut and stacked, and Tip was carrying the pumpkins to thestable, he took a notion to make a “Jack Lantern” and try to givethe old woman a fright with it.

So he selected a fine, big pumpkin—one with a lustrous, orange-redcolor—and began carving it. With the point of his knife he made two roundeyes, a three-cornered nose, and a mouth shaped like a new moon. The face, whencompleted, could not have been considered strictly beautiful; but it wore asmile so big and broad, and was so Jolly in expression, that even Tip laughedas he looked admiringly at his work.

The child had no playmates, so he did not know that boys often dig out theinside of a “pumpkin-jack,” and in the space thus made put alighted candle to render the face more startling; but he conceived an idea ofhis own that promised to be quite as effective. He decided to manufacture theform of a man, who would wear this pumpkin head, and to stand it in a placewhere old Mombi would meet it face to face.

“And then,” said Tip to himself, with a laugh, “she’llsqueal louder than the brown pig does when I pull her tail, and shiver withfright worse than I did last year when I had the ague!”

He had plenty of time to accomplish this task, for Mombi had gone to avillage—to buy groceries, she said—and it was a journey of at leasttwo days.

So he took his axe to the forest, and selected some stout, straight saplings,which he cut down and trimmed of all their twigs and leaves. From these hewould make the arms, and legs, and feet of his man. For the body he stripped asheet of thick bark from around a big tree, and with much labor fashioned itinto a cylinder of about the right size, pinning the edges together with woodenpegs. Then, whistling happily as he worked, he carefully jointed the limbs andfastened them to the body with pegs whittled into shape with his knife.

By the time this feat had been accomplished it began to grow dark, and Tipremembered he must milk the cow and feed the pigs. So he picked up his woodenman and carried it back to the house with him.

During the evening, by the light of the fire in the kitchen, Tip carefullyrounded all the edges of the joints and smoothed the rough places in a neat andworkmanlike manner. Then he stood the figure up against the wall and admiredit. It seemed remarkably tall, even for a full-grown man; but that was a goodpoint in a small boy’s eyes, and Tip did not object at all to the size ofhis creation.

Next morning, when he looked at his work again, Tip saw he had forgotten togive the dummy a neck, by means of which he might fasten the pumpkinhead to thebody. So he went again to the forest, which was not far away, and chopped froma tree several pieces of wood with which to complete his work. When he returnedhe fastened a cross-piece to the upper end of the body, making a hole throughthe center to hold upright the neck. The bit of wood which formed this neck wasalso sharpened at the upper end, and when all was ready Tip put on the pumpkinhead, pressing it well down onto the neck, and found that it fitted very well.The head could be turned to one side or the other, as he pleased, and thehinges of the arms and legs allowed him to place the dummy in any position hedesired.

“Now, that,” declared Tip, proudly, “is really a very fineman, and it ought to frighten several screeches out of old Mombi! But it wouldbe much more lifelike if it were properly dressed.”

To find clothing seemed no easy task; but Tip boldly ransacked the great chestin which Mombi kept all her keepsakes and treasures, and at the very bottom hediscovered some purple trousers, a red shirt and a pink vest which was dottedwith white spots. These he carried away to his man and succeeded, although thegarments did not fit very well, in dressing the creature in a jaunty fashion.Some knit stockings belonging to Mombi and a much worn pair of his own shoescompleted the man’s apparel, and Tip was so delighted that he danced upand down and laughed aloud in boyish ecstacy.

“I must give him a name!” he cried. “So good a man as thismust surely have a name. I believe,” he added, after a moment’sthought, “I will name the fellow ‘Jack Pumpkinhead!’”

The Marvelous Powder of Life

After considering the matter carefully, Tip decided that the best place tolocate Jack would be at the bend in the road, a little way from the house. Sohe started to carry his man there, but found him heavy and rather awkward tohandle. After dragging the creature a short distance Tip stood him on his feet,and by first bending the joints of one leg, and then those of the other, at thesame time pushing from behind, the boy managed to induce Jack to walk to thebend in the road. It was not accomplished without a few tumbles, and Tip reallyworked harder than he ever had in the fields or forest; but a love of mischiefurged him on, and it pleased him to test the cleverness of his workmanship.

“Jack’s all right, and works fine!” he said to himself,panting with the unusual exertion. But just then he discovered the man’sleft arm had fallen off in the journey so he went back to find it, andafterward, by whittling a new and stouter pin for the shoulder-joint, herepaired the injury so successfully that the arm was stronger than before. Tipalso noticed that Jack’s pumpkin head had twisted around until it facedhis back; but this was easily remedied. When, at last, the man was set upfacing the turn in the path where old Mombi was to appear, he looked naturalenough to be a fair imitation of a Gillikin farmer,—and unnatural enoughto startle anyone that came on him unawares.

As it was yet too early in the day to expect the old woman to return home, Tipwent down into the valley below the farm-house and began to gather nuts fromthe trees that grew there.

However, old Mombi returned earlier than usual. She had met a crooked wizardwho resided in a lonely cave in the mountains, and had traded several importantsecrets of magic with him. Having in this way secured three new recipes, fourmagical powders and a selection of herbs of wonderful power and potency, shehobbled home as fast as she could, in order to test her new sorceries.

So intent was Mombi on the treasures she had gained that when she turned thebend in the road and caught a glimpse of the man, she merely nodded and said:

“Good evening, sir.”

But, a moment after, noting that the person did not move or reply, she cast ashrewd glance into his face and discovered his pumpkin head elaborately carvedby Tip’s jack-knife.

“Heh!” ejaculated Mombi, giving a sort of grunt; “thatrascally boy has been playing tricks again! Very good! ve—ry good!I’ll beat him black-and-blue for trying to scare me in thisfashion!”

Angrily she raised her stick to smash in the grinning pumpkin head of thedummy; but a sudden thought made her pause, the uplifted stick left motionlessin the air.

“Why, here is a good chance to try my new powder!” said she,eagerly. “And then I can tell whether that crooked wizard has fairlytraded secrets, or whether he has fooled me as wickedly as I fooled him.”

So she set down her basket and began fumbling in it for one of the preciouspowders she had obtained.

While Mombi was thus occupied Tip strolled back, with his pockets full of nuts,and discovered the old woman standing beside his man and apparently not theleast bit frightened by it.

At first he was generally disappointed; but the next moment he became curiousto know what Mombi was going to do. So he hid behind a hedge, where he couldsee without being seen, and prepared to watch.

After some search the woman drew from her basket an old pepper-box, upon thefaded label of which the wizard had written with a lead-pencil:

“Powder of Life.”

“Ah—here it is!” she cried, joyfully. “And now let ussee if it is potent. The stingy wizard didn’t give me much of it, but Iguess there’s enough for two or three doses.”

Tip was much surprised when he overheard this speech. Then he saw old Mombiraise her arm and sprinkle the powder from the box over the pumpkin head of hisman Jack. She did this in the same way one would pepper a baked potato, and thepowder sifted down from Jack’s head and scattered over the red shirt andpink waistcoat and purple trousers Tip had dressed him in, and a portion evenfell upon the patched and worn shoes.

Then, putting the pepper-box back into the basket, Mombi lifted her left hand,with its little finger pointed upward, and said:

“Weaugh!”

Then she lifted her right hand, with the thumb pointed upward, and said:

“Teaugh!”

Then she lifted both hands, with all the fingers and thumbs spread out, andcried:

“Peaugh!”

Jack Pumpkinhead stepped back a pace, at this, and said in a reproachful voice:

“Don’t yell like that! Do you think I’m deaf?”

Old Mombi danced around him, frantic with delight.

“He lives!” she screamed: “He lives! he lives!”

Then she threw her stick into the air and caught it as it came down; and shehugged herself with both arms, and tried to do a step of a jig; and all thetime she repeated, rapturously:

“He lives!—he lives!—he lives!”

Now you may well suppose that Tip observed all this with amazement.

At first he was so frightened and horrified that he wanted to run away, but hislegs trembled and shook so badly that he couldn’t. Then it struck him asa very funny thing for Jack to come to life, especially as the expression onhis pumpkin face was so droll and comical it excited laughter on the instant.So, recovering from his first fear, Tip began to laugh; and the merry pealsreached old Mombi’s ears and made her hobble quickly to the hedge, whereshe seized Tip’s collar and dragged him back to where she had left herbasket and the pumpkinheaded man.

“You naughty, sneaking, wicked boy!” she exclaimed, furiously:“I’ll teach you to spy out my secrets and to make fun of me!”

“I wasn’t making fun of you,” protested Tip. “I waslaughing at old Pumpkinhead! Look at him! Isn’t he a picture,though?”

“I hope you are not reflecting on my personal appearance,” saidJack; and it was so funny to hear his grave voice, while his face continued towear its jolly smile, that Tip again burst into a peal of laughter.

Even Mombi was not without a curious interest in the man her magic had broughtto life; for, after staring at him intently, she presently asked:

“What do you know?”

“Well, that is hard to tell,” replied Jack. “For although Ifeel that I know a tremendous lot, I am not yet aware how much there is in theworld to find out about. It will take me a little time to discover whether I amvery wise or very foolish.”

“To be sure,” said Mombi, thoughtfully.

“But what are you going to do with him, now he is alive?” askedTip, wondering.

“I must think it over,” answered Mombi. “But we must get homeat once, for it is growing dark. Help the Pumpkinhead to walk.”

“Never mind me,” said Jack; “I can walk as well as you can.Haven’t I got legs and feet, and aren’t they jointed?”

“Are they?” asked the woman, turning to Tip.

“Of course they are; I made ’em myself,” returned the boy,with pride.

So they started for the house, but when they reached the farm yard old Mombiled the pumpkin man to the cow stable and shut him up in an empty stall,fastening the door securely on the outside.

“I’ve got to attend to you, first,” she said, nodding herhead at Tip.

Hearing this, the boy became uneasy; for he knew Mombi had a bad and revengefulheart, and would not hesitate to do any evil thing.

They entered the house. It was a round, domeshaped structure, as are nearly allthe farm houses in the Land of Oz.

Mombi bade the boy light a candle, while she put her basket in a cupboard andhung her cloak on a peg. Tip obeyed quickly, for he was afraid of her.

After the candle had been lighted Mombi ordered him to build a fire in thehearth, and while Tip was thus engaged the old woman ate her supper. When theflames began to crackle the boy came to her and asked a share of the bread andcheese; but Mombi refused him.

“I’m hungry!” said Tip, in a sulky tone.

“You won’t be hungry long,” replied Mombi, with a grim look.

The boy didn’t like this speech, for it sounded like a threat; but hehappened to remember he had nuts in his pocket, so he cracked some of those andate them while the woman rose, shook the crumbs from her apron, and hung abovethe fire a small black kettle.

Then she measured out equal parts of milk and vinegar and poured them into thekettle. Next she produced several packets of herbs and powders and began addinga portion of each to the contents of the kettle. Occasionally she would drawnear the candle and read from a yellow paper the recipe of the mess she wasconcocting.

As Tip watched her his uneasiness increased.

“What is that for?” he asked.

“For you,” returned Mombi, briefly.

Tip wriggled around upon his stool and stared awhile at the kettle, which wasbeginning to bubble. Then he would glance at the stern and wrinkled features ofthe witch and wish he were any place but in that dim and smoky kitchen, whereeven the shadows cast by the candle upon the wall were enough to give one thehorrors. So an hour passed away, during which the silence was only broken bythe bubbling of the pot and the hissing of the flames.

Finally, Tip spoke again.

“Have I got to drink that stuff?” he asked, nodding toward the pot.

“Yes,” said Mombi.

“What’ll it do to me?” asked Tip.

“If it’s properly made,” replied Mombi, “it will changeor transform you into a marble statue.”

Tip groaned, and wiped the perspiration from his forehead with his sleeve.

“I don’t want to be a marble statue!” he protested.

“That doesn’t matter I want you to be one,” said the oldwoman, looking at him severely.

“What use’ll I be then?” asked Tip. “There won’tbe any one to work for you.”

“I’ll make the Pumpkinhead work for me,” said Mombi.

Again Tip groaned.

“Why don’t you change me into a goat, or a chicken?” heasked, anxiously. “You can’t do anything with a marblestatue.”

“Oh, yes, I can,” returned Mombi. “I’m going to plant aflower garden, next Spring, and I’ll put you in the middle of it, for anornament. I wonder I haven’t thought of that before; you’ve been abother to me for years.”

At this terrible speech Tip felt the beads of perspiration starting all overhis body, but he sat still and shivered and looked anxiously at the kettle.

“Perhaps it won’t work,” he mutttered, in a voice thatsounded weak and discouraged.

“Oh, I think it will,” answered Mombi, cheerfully. “I seldommake a mistake.”

Again there was a period of silence a silence so long and gloomy that whenMombi finally lifted the kettle from the fire it was close to midnight.

“You cannot drink it until it has become quite cold,” announced theold witch for in spite of the law she had acknowledged practising witchcraft.“We must both go to bed now, and at daybreak I will call you and at oncecomplete your transformation into a marble statue.”

With this she hobbled into her room, bearing the steaming kettle with her, andTip heard her close and lock the door.

The boy did not go to bed, as he had been commanded to do, but still satglaring at the embers of the dying fire.

The Flight of the Fugitives

Tip reflected.

“It’s a hard thing, to be a marble statue,” he thought,rebelliously, “and I’m not going to stand it. For years I’vebeen a bother to her, she says; so she’s going to get rid of me. Well,there’s an easier way than to become a statue. No boy could have any funforever standing in the middle of a flower garden! I’ll run away,that’s what I’ll do—and I may as well go before she makes medrink that nasty stuff in the kettle.” He waited until the snores of theold witch announced she was fast asleep, and then he arose softly and went tothe cupboard to find something to eat.

“No use starting on a journey without food,” he decided, searchingupon the narrow shelves.

He found some crusts of bread; but he had to look into Mombi’s basket tofind the cheese she had brought from the village. While turning over thecontents of the basket he came upon the pepper-box which contained the“Powder of Life.”

“I may as well take this with me,” he thought, “orMombi’ll be using it to make more mischief with.” So he put the boxin his pocket, together with the bread and cheese.

Then he cautiously left the house and latched the door behind him. Outside bothmoon and stars shone brightly, and the night seemed peaceful and inviting afterthe close and ill-smelling kitchen.

“I’ll be glad to get away,” said Tip, softly; “for Inever did like that old woman. I wonder how I ever came to live withher.”

He was walking slowly toward the road when a thought made him pause.

“I don’t like to leave Jack Pumpkinhead to the tender mercies ofold Mombi,” he muttered. “And Jack belongs to me, for I made himeven if the old witch did bring him to life.”

He retraced his steps to the cow-stable and opened the door of the stall wherethe pumpkin-headed man had been left.

Jack was standing in the middle of the stall, and by the moonlight Tip couldsee he was smiling just as jovially as ever.

“Come on!” said the boy, beckoning.

“Where to?” asked Jack.

“You’ll know as soon as I do,” answered Tip, smilingsympathetically into the pumpkin face.

“All we’ve got to do now is to tramp.”

“Very well,” returned Jack, and walked awkwardly out of the stableand into the moonlight.

Tip turned toward the road and the man followed him. Jack walked with a sort oflimp, and occasionally one of the joints of his legs would turn backward,instead of frontwise, almost causing him to tumble. But the Pumpkinhead wasquick to notice this, and began to take more pains to step carefully; so thathe met with few accidents.

Tip led him along the path without stopping an instant. They could not go veryfast, but they walked steadily; and by the time the moon sank away and the sunpeeped over the hills they had travelled so great a distance that the boy hadno reason to fear pursuit from the old witch. Moreover, he had turned firstinto one path, and then into another, so that should anyone follow them itwould prove very difficult to guess which way they had gone, or where to seekthem.

Fairly satisfied that he had escaped—for a time, at least—beingturned into a marble statue, the boy stopped his companion and seated himselfupon a rock by the roadside.

“Let’s have some breakfast,” he said.

Jack Pumpkinhead watched Tip curiously, but refused to join in the repast.“I don’t seem to be made the same way you are,” he said.

“I know you are not,” returned Tip; “for I made you.”

“Oh! Did you?” asked Jack.

“Certainly. And put you together. And carved your eyes and nose and earsand mouth,” said Tip proudly. “And dressed you.”

Jack looked at his body and limbs critically.

“It strikes me you made a very good job of it,” he remarked.

“Just so-so,” replied Tip, modestly; for he began to see certaindefects in the construction of his man. “If I’d known we were goingto travel together I might have been a little more particular.”

“Why, then,” said the Pumpkinhead, in a tone that expressedsurprise, “you must be my creator my parent my father!”

“Or your inventor,” replied the boy with a laugh. “Yes, myson; I really believe I am!”

“Then I owe you obedience,” continued the man, “and you oweme—support.”

“That’s it, exactly”, declared Tip, jumping up. “So letus be off.”

“Where are we going?” asked Jack, when they had resumed theirjourney.

“I’m not exactly sure,” said the boy; “but I believe weare headed South, and that will bring us, sooner or later, to the EmeraldCity.”

“What city is that?” enquired the Pumpkinhead.

“Why, it’s the center of the Land of Oz, and the biggest town inall the country. I’ve never been there, myself, but I’ve heard allabout its history. It was built by a mighty and wonderful Wizard named Oz, andeverything there is of a green color—just as everything in this Countryof the Gillikins is of a purple color.”

“Is everything here purple?” asked Jack.

“Of course it is. Can’t you see?” returned the boy.

“I believe I must be color-blind,” said the Pumpkinhead, afterstaring about him.

“Well, the grass is purple, and the trees are purple, and the houses andfences are purple,” explained Tip. “Even the mud in the roads ispurple. But in the Emerald City everything is green that is purple here. And inthe Country of the Munchkins, over at the East, everything is blue; and in theSouth country of the Quadlings everything is red; and in the West country ofthe Winkies, where the Tin Woodman rules, everything is yellow.”

“Oh!” said Jack. Then, after a pause, he asked: “Did you saya Tin Woodman rules the Winkies?”

“Yes; he was one of those who helped Dorothy to destroy the Wicked Witchof the West, and the Winkies were so grateful that they invited him to becometheir ruler,—just as the people of the Emerald City invited the Scarecrowto rule them.”

“Dear me!” said Jack. “I’m getting confused with allthis history. Who is the Scarecrow?”

“Another friend of Dorothy’s,” replied Tip.

“And who is Dorothy?”

“She was a girl that came here from Kansas, a place in the big, outsideWorld. She got blown to the Land of Oz by a cyclone, and while she was here theScarecrow and the Tin Woodman accompanied her on her travels.”

“And where is she now?” inquired the Pumpkinhead.

“Glinda the Good, who rules the Quadlings, sent her home again,”said the boy.

“Oh. And what became of the Scarecrow?”

“I told you. He rules the Emerald City,” answered Tip.

“I thought you said it was ruled by a wonderful Wizard,” objectedJack, seeming more and more confused.

“Well, so I did. Now, pay attention, and I’ll explain it,”said Tip, speaking slowly and looking the smiling Pumpkinhead squarely in theeye. “Dorothy went to the Emerald City to ask the Wizard to send her backto Kansas; and the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman went with her. But the Wizardcouldn’t send her back, because he wasn’t so much of a Wizard as hemight have been. And then they got angry at the Wizard, and threatened toexpose him; so the Wizard made a big balloon and escaped in it, and no one hasever seen him since.”

“Now, that is very interesting history,” said Jack, well pleased;“and I understand it perfectly all but the explanation.”

“I’m glad you do,” responded Tip. “After the Wizard wasgone, the people of the Emerald City made His Majesty, the Scarecrow, theirKing; and I have heard that he became a very popular ruler.”

“Are we going to see this queer King?” asked Jack, with interest.

“I think we may as well,” replied the boy; “unless you havesomething better to do.”

“Oh, no, dear father,” said the Pumpkinhead. “I am quitewilling to go wherever you please.”

Tip Makes an Experiment in Magic

The boy, small and rather delicate in appearance seemed somewhat embarrassed atbeing called “father” by the tall, awkward, pumpkinheaded man, butto deny the relationship would involve another long and tedious explanation; sohe changed the subject by asking, abruptly:

“Are you tired?”

“Of course not!” replied the other. “But,” hecontinued, after a pause, “it is quite certain I shall wear out my woodenjoints if I keep on walking.”

Tip reflected, as they journeyed on, that this was true. He began to regretthat he had not constructed the wooden limbs more carefully and substantially.Yet how could he ever have guessed that the man he had made merely to scare oldMombi with would be brought to life by means of a magical powder contained inan old pepper-box?

So he ceased to reproach himself, and began to think how he might yet remedythe deficiencies of Jack’s weak joints.

While thus engaged they came to the edge of a wood, and the boy sat down torest upon an old sawhorse that some woodcutter had left there.

“Why don’t you sit down?” he asked the Pumpkinhead.

“Won’t it strain my joints?” inquired the other.

“Of course not. It’ll rest them,” declared the boy.

So Jack tried to sit down; but as soon as he bent his joints farther than usualthey gave way altogether, and he came clattering to the ground with such acrash that Tip feared he was entirely ruined.

He rushed to the man, lifted him to his feet, straightened his arms and legs,and felt of his head to see if by chance it had become cracked. But Jack seemedto be in pretty good shape, after all, and Tip said to him:

“I guess you’d better remain standing, hereafter. It seems thesafest way.”

“Very well, dear father.” just as you say, replied the smilingJack, who had been in no wise confused by his tumble.

Tip sat down again. Presently the Pumpkinhead asked:

“What is that thing you are sitting on?”

“Oh, this is a horse,” replied the boy, carelessly.

“What is a horse?” demanded Jack.

“A horse? Why, there are two kinds of horses,” returned Tip,slightly puzzled how to explain. “One kind of horse is alive, and hasfour legs and a head and a tail. And people ride upon its back.”

“I understand,” said Jack, cheerfully “That’s the kindof horse you are now sitting on.”

“No, it isn’t,” answered Tip, promptly.

“Why not? That one has four legs, and a head, and a tail.” Tiplooked at the saw-horse more carefully, and found that the Pumpkinhead wasright. The body had been formed from a tree-trunk, and a branch had been leftsticking up at one end that looked very much like a tail. In the other end weretwo big knots that resembled eyes, and a place had been chopped away that mighteasily be mistaken for the horse’s mouth. As for the legs, they were fourstraight limbs cut from trees and stuck fast into the body, being spread wideapart so that the saw-horse would stand firmly when a log was laid across it tobe sawed.

“This thing resembles a real horse more than I imagined,” said Tip,trying to explain. “But a real horse is alive, and trots and prances andeats oats, while this is nothing more than a dead horse, made of wood, and usedto saw logs upon.”

“If it were alive, wouldn’t it trot, and prance, and eatoats?” inquired the Pumpkinhead.

“It would trot and prance, perhaps; but it wouldn’t eatoats,” replied the boy, laughing at the idea. “And of course itcan’t ever be alive, because it is made of wood.”

“So am I,” answered the man.

Tip looked at him in surprise.

“Why, so you are!” he exclaimed. “And the magic powder thatbrought you to life is here in my pocket.”

He brought out the pepper box, and eyed it curiously.

“I wonder,” said he, musingly, “if it would bring thesaw-horse to life.”

“If it would,” returned Jack, calmly for nothing seemed to surprisehim “I could ride on its back, and that would save my joints from wearingout.”

“I’ll try it!” cried the boy, jumping up. “But I wonderif I can remember the words old Mombi said, and the way she held her handsup.”

He thought it over for a minute, and as he had watched carefully from the hedgeevery motion of the old witch, and listened to her words, he believed he couldrepeat exactly what she had said and done.

So he began by sprinkling some of the magic Powder of Life from the pepper-boxupon the body of the saw-horse. Then he lifted his left hand, with the littlefinger pointing upward, and said: “Weaugh!”

“What does that mean, dear father?” asked Jack, curiously.

“I don’t know,” answered Tip. Then he lifted his right hand,with the thumb pointing upward and said: “Teaugh!”

“What’s that, dear father?” inquired Jack.

“It means you must keep quiet!” replied the boy, provoked at beinginterrupted at so important a moment.

“How fast I am learning!” remarked the Pumpkinhead, with hiseternal smile.

Tip now lifted both hands above his head, with all the fingers and thumbsspread out, and cried in a loud voice: “Peaugh!”

Immediately the saw-horse moved, stretched its legs, yawned with itschopped-out mouth, and shook a few grains of the powder off its back. The restof the powder seemed to have vanished into the body of the horse.

“Good!” called Jack, while the boy looked on in astonishment.“You are a very clever sorcerer, dear father!”

The Awakening of the Saw-horse

The Saw-Horse, finding himself alive, seemed even more astonished than Tip. Herolled his knotty eyes from side to side, taking a first wondering view of theworld in which he had now so important an existence. Then he tried to look athimself; but he had, indeed, no neck to turn; so that in the endeavor to seehis body he kept circling around and around, without catching even a glimpse ofit. His legs were stiff and awkward, for there were no knee-joints in them; sothat presently he bumped against Jack Pumpkinhead and sent that personagetumbling upon the moss that lined the roadside.

Tip became alarmed at this accident, as well as at the persistence of theSaw-Horse in prancing around in a circle; so he called out:

“Whoa! Whoa, there!”

The Saw-Horse paid no attention whatever to this command, and the next instantbrought one of his wooden legs down upon Tip’s foot so forcibly that theboy danced away in pain to a safer distance, from where he again yelled:

“Whoa! Whoa, I say!”

Jack had now managed to raise himself to a sitting position, and he looked atthe Saw-Horse with much interest.

“I don’t believe the animal can hear you,” he remarked.

“I shout loud enough, don’t I?” answered Tip, angrily.

“Yes; but the horse has no ears,” said the smiling Pumpkinhead.

“Sure enough!” exclaimed Tip, noting the fact for the first time.“How, then, am I going to stop him?”

But at that instant the Saw-Horse stopped himself, having concluded it wasimpossible to see his own body. He saw Tip, however, and came close to the boyto observe him more fully.

It was really comical to see the creature walk; for it moved the legs on itsright side together, and those on its left side together, as a pacing horsedoes; and that made its body rock sidewise, like a cradle.

Tip patted it upon the head, and said “Good boy! Good Boy!” in acoaxing tone; and the Saw-Horse pranced away to examine with its bulging eyesthe form of Jack Pumpkinhead.

“I must find a halter for him,” said Tip; and having made a searchin his pocket he produced a roll of strong cord. Unwinding this, he approachedthe Saw-Horse and tied the cord around its neck, afterward fastening the otherend to a large tree. The Saw-Horse, not understanding the action, steppedbackward and snapped the string easily; but it made no attempt to run away.

“He’s stronger than I thought,” said the boy, “andrather obstinate, too.”

“Why don’t you make him some ears?” asked Jack. “Thenyou can tell him what to do.”

“That’s a splendid idea!” said Tip. “How did you happento think of it?”

“Why, I didn’t think of it,” answered the Pumpkinhead;“I didn’t need to, for it’s the simplest and easiest thing todo.”

So Tip got out his knife and fashioned some ears out of the bark of a smalltree.

“I mustn’t make them too big,” he said, as he whittled,“or our horse would become a donkey.”

“How is that?” inquired Jack, from the roadside.

“Why, a horse has bigger ears than a man; and a donkey has bigger earsthan a horse,” explained Tip.

“Then, if my ears were longer, would I be a horse?” asked Jack.

“My friend,” said Tip, gravely, “you’ll never beanything but a Pumpkinhead, no matter how big your ears are.”

“Oh,” returned Jack, nodding; “I think I understand.”

“If you do, you’re a wonder,” remarked the boy “butthere’s no harm in thinkingyou understand. I guess these ears areready now. Will you hold the horse while I stick them on?”

“Certainly, if you’ll help me up,” said Jack.

So Tip raised him to his feet, and the Pumpkinhead went to the horse and heldits head while the boy bored two holes in it with his knife-blade and insertedthe ears.

“They make him look very handsome,” said Jack, admiringly.

But those words, spoken close to the Saw-Horse, and being the first sounds hehad ever heard, so startled the animal that he made a bound forward and tumbledTip on one side and Jack on the other. Then he continued to rush forward as iffrightened by the clatter of his own foot-steps.

“Whoa!” shouted Tip, picking himself up; “whoa! you idiotwhoa!” The Saw-Horse would probably have paid no attention to this, butjust then it stepped a leg into a gopher-hole and stumbled head-over-heels tothe ground, where it lay upon its back, frantically waving its four legs in theair.

Tip ran up to it.

“You’re a nice sort of a horse, I must say!” he exclaimed.“Why didn’t you stop when I yelled ‘whoa?’”

“Does ‘whoa’ mean to stop?” asked the Saw-Horse, in asurprised voice, as it rolled its eyes upward to look at the boy.

“Of course it does,” answered Tip.

“And a hole in the ground means to stop, also, doesn’t it?”continued the horse.

“To be sure; unless you step over it,” said Tip.

“What a strange place this is,” the creature exclaimed, as ifamazed. “What am I doing here, anyway?”

“Why, I’ve brought you to life,” answered the boy “butit won’t hurt you any, if you mind me and do as I tell you.”

“Then I will do as you tell me,” replied the Saw-Horse, humbly.“But what happened to me, a moment ago? I don’t seem to be justright, someway.”

“You’re upside down,” explained Tip. “But just keepthose legs still a minute and I’ll set you right side up again.”

“How many sides have I?” asked the creature, wonderingly.

“Several,” said Tip, briefly. “But do keep those legsstill.”

The Saw-Horse now became quiet, and held its legs rigid; so that Tip, afterseveral efforts, was able to roll him over and set him upright.

“Ah, I seem all right now,” said the queer animal, with a sigh.

“One of your ears is broken,” Tip announced, after a carefulexamination. “I’ll have to make a new one.”

Then he led the Saw-Horse back to where Jack was vainly struggling to regainhis feet, and after assisting the Pumpkinhead to stand upright Tip whittled outa new ear and fastened it to the horse’s head.

“Now,” said he, addressing his steed, “pay attention to whatI’m going to tell you. ‘Whoa!’ means to stop;‘Get-Up!’ means to walk forward; ‘Trot!’ means to go asfast as you can. Understand?”

“I believe I do,” returned the horse.

“Very good. We are all going on a journey to the Emerald City, to see HisMajesty, the Scarecrow; and Jack Pumpkinhead is going to ride on your back, sohe won’t wear out his joints.”

“I don’t mind,” said the Saw-Horse. “Anything thatsuits you suits me.”

Then Tip assisted Jack to get upon the horse.

“Hold on tight,” he cautioned, “or you may fall off and crackyour pumpkin head.”

“That would be horrible!” said Jack, with a shudder. “Whatshall I hold on to?”

“Why, hold on to his ears,” replied Tip, after a moment’shesitation.

“Don’t do that!” remonstrated the Saw-Horse; “for thenI can’t hear.”

That seemed reasonable, so Tip tried to think of something else.

“I’ll fix it!” said he, at length. He went into the wood andcut a short length of limb from a young, stout tree. One end of this hesharpened to a point, and then he dug a hole in the back of the Saw-Horse, justbehind its head. Next he brought a piece of rock from the road and hammered thepost firmly into the animal’s back.

“Stop! Stop!” shouted the horse; “you’re jarring meterribly.”

“Does it hurt?” asked the boy.

“Not exactly hurt,” answered the animal; “but it makes mequite nervous to be jarred.”

“Well, it’s all over now” said Tip, encouragingly.“Now, Jack, be sure to hold fast to this post and then you can’tfall off and get smashed.”

So Jack held on tight, and Tip said to the horse:

“Get up.”

The obedient creature at once walked forward, rocking from side to side as heraised his feet from the ground.

Tip walked beside the Saw-Horse, quite content with this addition to theirparty. Presently he began to whistle.

“What does that sound mean?” asked the horse.

“Don’t pay any attention to it,” said Tip. “I’mjust whistling, and that only means I’m pretty well satisfied.”

“I’d whistle myself, if I could push my lips together,”remarked Jack. “I fear, dear father, that in some respects I am sadlylacking.”

After journeying on for some distance the narrow path they were followingturned into a broad roadway, paved with yellow brick. By the side of the roadTip noticed a sign-post that read:

“NINE MILES TO THE EMERALD CITY.”

But it was now growing dark, so he decided to camp for the night by theroadside and to resume the journey next morning by daybreak. He led theSaw-Horse to a grassy mound upon which grew several bushy trees, and carefullyassisted the Pumpkinhead to alight.

“I think I’ll lay you upon the ground, overnight,” said theboy. “You will be safer that way.”

“How about me?” asked the Saw-Horse.

“It won’t hurt you to stand,” replied Tip; “and, as youcan’t sleep, you may as well watch out and see that no one comes near todisturb us.”

Then the boy stretched himself upon the grass beside the Pumpkinhead, and beinggreatly wearied by the journey was soon fast asleep.

Jack Pumpkinhead’s Ride to the Emerald City

At daybreak Tip was awakened by the Pumpkinhead. He rubbed the sleep from hiseyes, bathed in a little brook, and then ate a portion of his bread and cheese.Having thus prepared for a new day the boy said:

“Let us start at once. Nine miles is quite a distance, but we ought toreach the Emerald City by noon if no accidents happen.” So thePumpkinhead was again perched upon the back of the Saw-Horse and the journeywas resumed.

Tip noticed that the purple tint of the grass and trees had now faded to a dulllavender, and before long this lavender appeared to take on a greenish tingethat gradually brightened as they drew nearer to the great City where theScarecrow ruled.

The little party had traveled but a short two miles upon their way when theroad of yellow brick was parted by a broad and swift river. Tip was puzzled howto cross over; but after a time he discovered a man in a ferry-boat approachingfrom the other side of the stream.

When the man reached the bank Tip asked:

“Will you row us to the other side?”

“Yes, if you have money,” returned the ferryman, whose face lookedcross and disagreeable.

“But I have no money,” said Tip.

“None at all?” inquired the man.

“None at all,” answered the boy.

“Then I’ll not break my back rowing you over,” said theferryman, decidedly.

“What a nice man!” remarked the Pumpkinhead, smilingly.

The ferryman stared at him, but made no reply. Tip was trying to think, for itwas a great disappointment to him to find his journey so suddenly brought to anend.

“I must certainly get to the Emerald City,” he said to the boatman;“but how can I cross the river if you do not take me?”

The man laughed, and it was not a nice laugh.

“That wooden horse will float,” said he; “and you can ridehim across. As for the pumpkinheaded loon who accompanies you, let him sink orswim it won’t matter greatly which.”

“Don’t worry about me,” said Jack, smiling pleasantly uponthe crabbed ferryman; “I’m sure I ought to floatbeautifully.”

Tip thought the experiment was worth making, and the Saw-Horse, who did notknow what danger meant, offered no objections whatever. So the boy led it downinto the water and climbed upon its back. Jack also waded in up to his kneesand grasped the tail of the horse so that he might keep his pumpkin head abovethe water.

“Now,” said Tip, instructing the Saw-Horse, “if you wiggleyour legs you will probably swim; and if you swim we shall probably reach theother side.”

The Saw-Horse at once began to wiggle its legs, which acted as oars and movedthe adventurers slowly across the river to the opposite side. So successful wasthe trip that presently they were climbing, wet and dripping, up the grassybank.

Tip’s trouser-legs and shoes were thoroughly soaked; but the Saw-Horsehad floated so perfectly that from his knees up the boy was entirely dry. Asfor the Pumpkinhead, every stitch of his gorgeous clothing dripped water.

“The sun will soon dry us,” said Tip “and, anyhow, we are nowsafely across, in spite of the ferryman, and can continue our journey.”

“I didn’t mind swimming, at all,” remarked the horse.

“Nor did I,” added Jack.

They soon regained the road of yellow brick, which proved to be a continuationof the road they had left on the other side, and then Tip once more mounted thePumpkinhead upon the back of the Saw-Horse.

“If you ride fast,” said he, “the wind will help to dry yourclothing. I will hold on to the horse’s tail and run after you. In thisway we all will become dry in a very short time.”

“Then the horse must step lively,” said Jack.

“I’ll do my best,” returned the Saw-Horse, cheerfully.

Tip grasped the end of the branch that served as tail to the Saw-Horse, andcalled loudly: “Get-up!”

The horse started at a good pace, and Tip followed behind. Then he decided theycould go faster, so he shouted: “Trot!”

Now, the Saw-Horse remembered that this word was the command to go as fast ashe could; so he began rocking along the road at a tremendous pace, and Tip hadhard work—running faster than he ever had before in his life—tokeep his feet.

Soon he was out of breath, and although he wanted to call “Whoa!”to the horse, he found he could not get the word out of his throat. Then theend of the tail he was clutching, being nothing more than a dead branch,suddenly broke away, and the next minute the boy was rolling in the dust of theroad, while the horse and its pumpkin-headed rider dashed on and quicklydisappeared in the distance.

By the time Tip had picked himself up and cleared the dust from his throat sohe could say “Whoa!” there was no further need of saying it, forthe horse was long since out of sight.

So he did the only sensible thing he could do. He sat down and took a goodrest, and afterward began walking along the road.

“Some time I will surely overtake them,” he reflected; “forthe road will end at the gates of the Emerald City, and they can go no furtherthan that.”

Meantime Jack was holding fast to the post and the Saw-Horse was tearing alongthe road like a racer. Neither of them knew Tip was left behind, for thePumpkinhead did not look around and the Saw-Horse couldn’t.

As he rode, Jack noticed that the grass and trees had become a brightemerald-green in color, so he guessed they were nearing the Emerald City evenbefore the tall spires and domes came into sight.

At length a high wall of green stone, studded thick with emeralds, loomed upbefore them; and fearing the Saw-Horse would not know enough to stop and somight smash them both against this wall, Jack ventured to cry“Whoa!” as loud as he could.

So suddenly did the horse obey that had it not been for his post Jack wouldhave been pitched off head foremost, and his beautiful face ruined.

“That was a fast ride, dear father!” he exclaimed; and then,hearing no reply, he turned around and discovered for the first time that Tipwas not there.

This apparent desertion puzzled the Pumpkinhead, and made him uneasy. And whilehe was wondering what had become of the boy, and what he ought to do next undersuch trying circumstances, the gateway in the green wall opened and a man cameout.

This man was short and round, with a fat face that seemed remarkablygood-natured. He was clothed all in green and wore a high, peaked green hatupon his head and green spectacles over his eyes. Bowing before the Pumpkinheadhe said:

“I am the Guardian of the Gates of the Emerald City. May I inquire whoyou are, and what is your business?”

“My name is Jack Pumpkinhead,” returned the other, smilingly;“but as to my business, I haven’t the least idea in the world whatit is.”

The Guardian of the Gates looked surprised, and shook his head as ifdissatisfied with the reply.

“What are you, a man or a pumpkin?” he asked, politely.

“Both, if you please,” answered Jack.

“And this wooden horse—is it alive?” questioned the Guardian.

The horse rolled one knotty eye upward and winked at Jack. Then it gave aprance and brought one leg down on the Guardian’s toes.

“Ouch!” cried the man; “I’m sorry I asked thatquestion. But the answer is most convincing. Have you any errand, sir, in theEmerald City?”

“It seems to me that I have,” replied the Pumpkinhead, seriously;“but I cannot think what it is. My father knows all about it, but he isnot here.”

“This is a strange affair very strange!” declared the Guardian.“But you seem harmless. Folks do not smile so delightfully when they meanmischief.”

“As for that,” said Jack, “I cannot help my smile, for it iscarved on my face with a jack-knife.”

“Well, come with me into my room,” resumed the Guardian, “andI will see what can be done for you.”

So Jack rode the Saw-Horse through the gateway into a little room built intothe wall. The Guardian pulled a bell-cord, and presently a very tallsoldier—clothed in a green uniform—entered from the opposite door.This soldier carried a long green gun over his shoulder and had lovely greenwhiskers that fell quite to his knees. The Guardian at once addressed him,saying:

“Here is a strange gentleman who doesn’t know why he has come tothe Emerald City, or what he wants. Tell me, what shall we do with him?”

The Soldier with the Green Whiskers looked at Jack with much care andcuriosity. Finally he shook his head so positively that little waves rippleddown his whiskers, and then he said:

“I must take him to His Majesty, the Scarecrow.”

“But what will His Majesty, the Scarecrow, do with him?” asked theGuardian of the Gates.

“That is His Majesty’s business,” returned the soldier.“I have troubles enough of my own. All outside troubles must be turnedover to His Majesty. So put the spectacles on this fellow, and I’ll takehim to the royal palace.”

So the Guardian opened a big box of spectacles and tried to fit a pair toJack’s great round eyes.

“I haven’t a pair in stock that will really cover those eyesup,” said the little man, with a sigh; “and your head is so bigthat I shall be obliged to tie the spectacles on.”

“But why need I wear spectacles?” asked Jack.

“It’s the fashion here,” said the Soldier, “and theywill keep you from being blinded by the glitter and glare of the gorgeousEmerald City.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Jack. “Tie them on, by all means. Idon’t wish to be blinded.”

“Nor I!” broke in the Saw-Horse; so a pair of green spectacles wasquickly fastened over the bulging knots that served it for eyes.

Then the Soldier with the Green Whiskers led them through the inner gate andthey at once found themselves in the main street of the magnificent EmeraldCity.

Sparkling green gems ornamented the fronts of the beautiful houses and thetowers and turrets were all faced with emeralds. Even the green marble pavementglittered with precious stones, and it was indeed a grand and marvelous sightto one who beheld it for the first time.

However, the Pumpkinhead and the Saw-Horse, knowing nothing of wealth andbeauty, paid little attention to the wonderful sights they saw through theirgreen spectacles. They calmly followed after the green soldier and scarcelynoticed the crowds of green people who stared at them in surprise. When a greendog ran out and barked at them the Saw-Horse promptly kicked at it with itswooden leg and sent the little animal howling into one of the houses; butnothing more serious than this happened to interrupt their progress to theroyal palace.

The Pumpkinhead wanted to ride up the green marble steps and straight into theScarecrow’s presence; but the soldier would not permit that. So Jackdismounted, with much difficulty, and a servant led the Saw-Horse around to therear while the Soldier with the Green Whiskers escorted the Pumpkinhead intothe palace, by the front entrance.

The stranger was left in a handsomely furnished waiting room while the soldierwent to announce him. It so happened that at this hour His Majesty was atleisure and greatly bored for want of something to do, so he ordered hisvisitor to be shown at once into his throne room.

Jack felt no fear or embarrassment at meeting the ruler of this magnificentcity, for he was entirely ignorant of all worldly customs. But when he enteredthe room and saw for the first time His Majesty the Scarecrow seated upon hisglittering throne, he stopped short in amazement.

His Majesty the Scarecrow

I suppose every reader of this book knows what a scarecrow is; but JackPumpkinhead, never having seen such a creation, was more surprised at meetingthe remarkable King of the Emerald City than by any other one experience of hisbrief life.

His Majesty the Scarecrow was dressed in a suit of faded blue clothes, and hishead was merely a small sack stuffed with straw, upon which eyes, ears, a noseand a mouth had been rudely painted to represent a face. The clothes were alsostuffed with straw, and that so unevenly or carelessly that his Majesty’slegs and arms seemed more bumpy than was necessary. Upon his hands were gloveswith long fingers, and these were padded with cotton. Wisps of straw stuck outfrom the monarch’s coat and also from his neck and boot-tops. Upon hishead he wore a heavy golden crown set thick with sparkling jewels, and theweight of this crown caused his brow to sag in wrinkles, giving a thoughtfulexpression to the painted face. Indeed, the crown alone betokened majesty; inall else the, Scarecrow King was but a simple scarecrow—flimsy, awkward,and unsubstantial.

But if the strange appearance of his Majesty the Scarecrow seemed startling toJack, no less wonderful was the form of the Pumpkinhead to the Scarecrow. Thepurple trousers and pink waistcoat and red shirt hung loosely over the woodenjoints Tip had manufactured, and the carved face on the pumpkin grinnedperpetually, as if its wearer considered life the jolliest thing imaginable.

At first, indeed, His Majesty thought his queer visitor was laughing at him,and was inclined to resent such a liberty; but it was not without reason thatthe Scarecrow had attained the reputation of being the wisest personage in theLand of Oz. He made a more careful examination of his visitor, and soondiscovered that Jack’s features were carved into a smile and that hecould not look grave if he wished to.

The King was the first to speak. After regarding Jack for some minutes he said,in a tone of wonder:

“Where on earth did you come from, and how do you happen to bealive?”

“I beg your Majesty’s pardon,” returned the Pumpkinhead;“but I do not understand you.”

“What don’t you understand?” asked the Scarecrow.

“Why, I don’t understand your language. You see, I came from theCountry of the Gillikins, so that I am a foreigner.”

“Ah, to be sure!” exclaimed the Scarecrow. “I myself speakthe language of the Munchkins, which is also the language of the Emerald City.But you, I suppose, speak the language of the Pumpkinheads?”

“Exactly so, your Majesty” replied the other, bowing; “so itwill be impossible for us to understand one another.”

“That is unfortunate, certainly,” said the Scarecrow, thoughtfully.“We must have an interpreter.”

“What is an interpreter?” asked Jack.

“A person who understands both my language and your own. When I sayanything, the interpreter can tell you what I mean; and when you say anythingthe interpreter can tell me what youmean. For the interpreter can speakboth languages as well as understand them.”

“That is certainly clever,” said Jack, greatly pleased at findingso simple a way out of the difficulty.

So the Scarecrow commanded the Soldier with the Green Whiskers to search amonghis people until he found one who understood the language of the Gillikins aswell as the language of the Emerald City, and to bring that person to him atonce.

When the Soldier had departed the Scarecrow said:

“Won’t you take a chair while we are waiting?”

“Your Majesty forgets that I cannot understand you,” replied thePumpkinhead. “If you wish me to sit down you must make a sign for me todo so.” The Scarecrow came down from his throne and rolled an armchair toa position behind the Pumpkinhead. Then he gave Jack a sudden push that senthim sprawling upon the cushions in so awkward a fashion that he doubled up likea jackknife, and had hard work to untangle himself.

“Did you understand that sign?” asked His Majesty, politely.

“Perfectly,” declared Jack, reaching up his arms to turn his headto the front, the pumpkin having twisted around upon the stick that supportedit.

“You seem hastily made,” remarked the Scarecrow, watchingJack’s efforts to straighten himself.

“Not more so than your Majesty,” was the frank reply.

“There is this difference between us,” said the Scarecrow,“that whereas I will bend, but not break, you will break, but notbend.”

At this moment the soldier returned leading a young girl by the hand. Sheseemed very sweet and modest, having a pretty face and beautiful green eyes andhair. A dainty green silk skirt reached to her knees, showing silk stockingsembroidered with pea-pods, and green satin slippers with bunches of lettuce fordecorations instead of bows or buckles. Upon her silken waist clover leaveswere embroidered, and she wore a jaunty little jacket trimmed with sparklingemeralds of a uniform size.

“Why, it’s little Jellia Jamb!” exclaimed the Scarecrow, asthe green maiden bowed her pretty head before him. “Do you understand thelanguage of the Gillikins, my dear?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” she answered, “for I was born in theNorth Country.”

“Then you shall be our interpreter,” said the Scarecrow, “andexplain to this Pumpkinhead all that I say, and also explain to me all thathesays. Is this arrangement satisfactory?” he asked, turningtoward his guest.

“Very satisfactory indeed,” was the reply.

“Then ask him, to begin with,” resumed the Scarecrow, turning toJellia, “what brought him to the Emerald City”

But instead of this the girl, who had been staring at Jack, said to him:

“You are certainly a wonderful creature. Who made you?”

“A boy named Tip,” answered Jack.

“What does he say?” inquired the Scarecrow. “My ears musthave deceived me. What did he say?”

“He says that your Majesty’s brains seem to have come loose,”replied the girl, demurely.

The Scarecrow moved uneasily upon his throne, and felt of his head with hisleft hand.

“What a fine thing it is to understand two different languages,” hesaid, with a perplexed sigh. “Ask him, my dear, if he has any objectionto being put in jail for insulting the ruler of the Emerald City.”

“I didn’t insult you!” protested Jack, indignantly.

“Tut—tut!” cautioned the Scarecrow “wait, until Jelliatranslates my speech. What have we got an interpreter for, if you break out inthis rash way?”

“All right, I’ll wait,” replied the Pumpkinhead, in a surlytone—although his face smiled as genially as ever. “Translate thespeech, young woman.”

“His Majesty inquires if you are hungry,” said Jellia.

“Oh, not at all!” answered Jack, more pleasantly, “for it isimpossible for me to eat.”

“It’s the same way with me,” remarked the Scarecrow.“What did he say, Jellia, my dear?”

“He asked if you were aware that one of your eyes is painted larger thanthe other,” said the girl, mischievously.

“Don’t you believe her, your Majesty,” cried Jack.

“Oh, I don’t,” answered the Scarecrow, calmly. Then, castinga sharp look at the girl, he asked:

“Are you quite certain you understand the languages of both the Gillikinsand the Munchkins?”

“Quite certain, your Majesty,” said Jellia Jamb, trying hard not tolaugh in the face of royalty.

“Then how is it that I seem to understand them myself?” inquiredthe Scarecrow.

“Because they are one and the same!” declared the girl, nowlaughing merrily. “Does not your Majesty know that in all the land of Ozbut one language is spoken?”

“Is it indeed so?” cried the Scarecrow, much relieved to hear this;“then I might easily have been my own interpreter!”

“It was all my fault, your Majesty,” said Jack, looking ratherfoolish, “I thought we must surely speak different languages, since wecame from different countries.”

“This should be a warning to you never to think,” returned theScarecrow, severely. “For unless one can think wisely it is better toremain a dummy—which you most certainly are.”

“I am!—I surely am!” agreed the Pumpkinhead.

“It seems to me,” continued the Scarecrow, more mildly, “thatyour manufacturer spoiled some good pies to create an indifferent man.”

“I assure your Majesty that I did not ask to be created,” answeredJack.

“Ah! It was the same in my case,” said the King, pleasantly.“And so, as we differ from all ordinary people, let us becomefriends.”

“With all my heart!” exclaimed Jack.

“What! Have you a heart?” asked the Scarecrow, surprised.

“No; that was only imaginative—I might say, a figure ofspeech,” said the other.

“Well, your most prominent figure seems to be a figure of wood; so I mustbeg you to restrain an imagination which, having no brains, you have no rightto exercise,” suggested the Scarecrow, warningly.

“To be sure!” said Jack, without in the least comprehending.

His Majesty then dismissed Jellia Jamb and the Soldier with the Green Whiskers,and when they were gone he took his new friend by the arm and led him into thecourtyard to play a game of quoits.

Gen. Jinjur’s Army of Revolt

Tip was so anxious to rejoin his man Jack and the Saw-Horse that he walked afull half the distance to the Emerald City without stopping to rest. Then hediscovered that he was hungry and the crackers and cheese he had provided forthe Journey had all been eaten.

While wondering what he should do in this emergency he came upon a girl sittingby the roadside. She wore a costume that struck the boy as being remarkablybrilliant: her silken waist being of emerald green and her skirt of fourdistinct colors—blue in front, yellow at the left side, red at the backand purple at the right side. Fastening the waist in front were fourbuttons—the top one blue, the next yellow, a third red and the lastpurple.

The splendor of this dress was almost barbaric; so Tip was fully justified instaring at the gown for some moments before his eyes were attracted by thepretty face above it. Yes, the face was pretty enough, he decided; but it worean expression of discontent coupled to a shade of defiance or audacity.

While the boy stared the girl looked upon him calmly. A lunch basket stoodbeside her, and she held a dainty sandwich in one hand and a hard-boiled egg inthe other, eating with an evident appetite that aroused Tip’s sympathy.

He was just about to ask a share of the luncheon when the girl stood up andbrushed the crumbs from her lap.

“There!” said she; “it is time for me to go. Carry thatbasket for me and help yourself to its contents if you are hungry.”

Tip seized the basket eagerly and began to eat, following for a time thestrange girl without bothering to ask questions. She walked along before himwith swift strides, and there was about her an air of decision and importancethat led him to suspect she was some great personage.

Finally, when he had satisfied his hunger, he ran up beside her and tried tokeep pace with her swift footsteps—a very difficult feat, for she wasmuch taller than he, and evidently in a hurry.

“Thank you very much for the sandwiches,” said Tip, as he trottedalong. “May I ask your name?”

“I am General Jinjur,” was the brief reply.

“Oh!” said the boy surprised. “What sort of a General?”

“I command the Army of Revolt in this war,” answered the General,with unnecessary sharpness.

“Oh!” he again exclaimed. “I didn’t know there was awar.”

“You were not supposed to know it,” she returned, “for wehave kept it a secret; and considering that our army is composed entirely ofgirls,” she added, with some pride, “it is surely a remarkablething that our Revolt is not yet discovered.”

“It is, indeed,” acknowledged Tip. “But where is yourarmy?”

“About a mile from here,” said General Jinjur. “The forceshave assembled from all parts of the Land of Oz, at my express command. Forthis is the day we are to conquer His Majesty the Scarecrow, and wrest from himthe throne. The Army of Revolt only awaits my coming to march upon the EmeraldCity.”

“Well!” declared Tip, drawing a long breath, “this iscertainly a surprising thing! May I ask why you wish to conquer His Majesty theScarecrow?”

“Because the Emerald City has been ruled by men long enough, for onereason,” said the girl.

“Moreover, the City glitters with beautiful gems, which might far betterbe used for rings, bracelets and necklaces; and there is enough money in theKing’s treasury to buy every girl in our Army a dozen new gowns. So weintend to conquer the City and run the government to suit ourselves.”

Jinjur spoke these words with an eagerness and decision that proved she was inearnest.

“But war is a terrible thing,” said Tip, thoughtfully.

“This war will be pleasant,” replied the girl, cheerfully.

“Many of you will be slain!” continued the boy, in an awed voice.

“Oh, no”, said Jinjur. “What man would oppose a girl, or dareto harm her? And there is not an ugly face in my entire Army.”

Tip laughed.

“Perhaps you are right,” said he. “But the Guardian of theGate is considered a faithful Guardian, and the King’s Army will not letthe City be conquered without a struggle.”

“The Army is old and feeble,” replied General Jinjur, scornfully.“His strength has all been used to grow whiskers, and his wife has such atemper that she has already pulled more than half of them out by the roots.When the Wonderful Wizard reigned the Soldier with the Green Whiskers was avery good Royal Army, for people feared the Wizard. But no one is afraid of theScarecrow, so his Royal Army don’t count for much in time of war.”

After this conversation they proceeded some distance in silence, and beforelong reached a large clearing in the forest where fully four hundred youngwomen were assembled. These were laughing and talking together as gaily as ifthey had gathered for a picnic instead of a war of conquest.

They were divided into four companies, and Tip noticed that all were dressed incostumes similar to that worn by General Jinjur. The only real difference wasthat while those girls from the Munchkin country had the blue strip in front oftheir skirts, those from the country of the Quadlings had the red strip infront; and those from the country of the Winkies had the yellow strip in front,and the Gillikin girls wore the purple strip in front. All had green waists,representing the Emerald City they intended to conquer, and the top button oneach waist indicated by its color which country the wearer came from. Theuniforms were Jaunty and becoming, and quite effective when massed together.

Tip thought this strange Army bore no weapons whatever; but in this he waswrong. For each girl had stuck through the knot of her back hair two long,glittering knitting-needles.

General Jinjur immediately mounted the stump of a tree and addressed her army.

“Friends, fellow-citizens, and girls!” she said; “we areabout to begin our great Revolt against the men of Oz! We march to conquer theEmerald City—to dethrone the Scarecrow King—to acquire thousands ofgorgeous gems—to rifle the royal treasury—and to obtain power overour former oppressors!”

“Hurrah!” said those who had listened; but Tip thought most of theArmy was too much engaged in chattering to pay attention to the words of theGeneral.

The command to march was now given, and the girls formed themselves into fourbands, or companies, and set off with eager strides toward the Emerald City.

The boy followed after them, carrying several baskets and wraps and packageswhich various members of the Army of Revolt had placed in his care. It was notlong before they came to the green granite walls of the City and halted beforethe gateway.

The Guardian of the Gate at once came out and looked at them curiously, as if acircus had come to town. He carried a bunch of keys swung round his neck by agolden chain; his hands were thrust carelessly into his pockets, and he seemedto have no idea at all that the City was threatened by rebels. Speakingpleasantly to the girls, he said:

“Good morning, my dears! What can I do for you?”

“Surrender instantly!” answered General Jinjur, standing before himand frowning as terribly as her pretty face would allow her to.

“Surrender!” echoed the man, astounded. “Why, it’simpossible. It’s against the law! I never heard of such a thing in mylife.”

“Still, you must surrender!” exclaimed the General, fiercely.“We are revolting!”

“You don’t look it,” said the Guardian, gazing from one toanother, admiringly.

“But we are!” cried Jinjur, stamping her foot, impatiently;“and we mean to conquer the Emerald City!”

“Good gracious!” returned the surprised Guardian of the Gates;“what a nonsensical idea! Go home to your mothers, my good girls, andmilk the cows and bake the bread. Don’t you know it’s a dangerousthing to conquer a city?”

“We are not afraid!” responded the General; and she looked sodetermined that it made the Guardian uneasy.

So he rang the bell for the Soldier with the Green Whiskers, and the nextminute was sorry he had done so. For immediately he was surrounded by a crowdof girls who drew the knitting-needles from their hair and began Jabbing themat the Guardian with the sharp points dangerously near his fat cheeks andblinking eyes.

The poor man howled loudly for mercy and made no resistance when Jinjur drewthe bunch of keys from around his neck.

Followed by her Army the General now rushed to the gateway, where she wasconfronted by the Royal Army of Oz—which was the other name for theSoldier with the Green Whiskers.

“Halt!” he cried, and pointed his long gun full in the face of theleader.

Some of the girls screamed and ran back, but General Jinjur bravely stood herground and said, reproachfully:

“Why, how now? Would you shoot a poor, defenceless girl?”

“No,” replied the soldier. “for my gun isn’tloaded.”

“Not loaded?”

“No; for fear of accidents. And I’ve forgotten where I hid thepowder and shot to load it with. But if you’ll wait a short timeI’ll try to hunt them up.”

“Don’t trouble yourself,” said Jinjur, cheerfully. Then sheturned to her Army and cried:

“Girls, the gun isn’t loaded!”

“Hooray,” shrieked the rebels, delighted at this good news, andthey proceeded to rush upon the Soldier with the Green Whiskers in such a crowdthat it was a wonder they didn’t stick the knitting-needles into oneanother.

But the Royal Army of Oz was too much afraid of women to meet the onslaught. Hesimply turned about and ran with all his might through the gate and toward theroyal palace, while General Jinjur and her mob flocked into the unprotectedCity.

In this way was the Emerald City captured without a drop of blood beingspilled. The Army of Revolt had become an Army of Conquerors!

The Scarecrow Plans an escape

Tip slipped away from the girls and followed swiftly after the Soldier with theGreen Whiskers. The invading army entered the City more slowly, for theystopped to dig emeralds out of the walls and paving-stones with the points oftheir knitting-needles. So the Soldier and the boy reached the palace beforethe news had spread that the City was conquered.

The Scarecrow and Jack Pumpkinhead were still playing at quoits in thecourtyard when the game was interrupted by the abrupt entrance of the RoyalArmy of Oz, who came flying in without his hat or gun, his clothes in saddisarray and his long beard floating a yard behind him as he ran.

“Tally one for me,” said the Scarecrow, calmly “What’swrong, my man?” he added, addressing the Soldier.

“Oh! your Majesty—your Majesty! The City is conquered!”gasped the Royal Army, who was all out of breath.

“This is quite sudden,” said the Scarecrow. “But please goand bar all the doors and windows of the palace, while I show this Pumpkinheadhow to throw a quoit.”

The Soldier hastened to do this, while Tip, who had arrived at his heels,remained in the courtyard to look at the Scarecrow with wondering eyes.

His Majesty continued to throw the quoits as coolly as if no danger threatenedhis throne, but the Pumpkinhead, having caught sight of Tip, ambled toward theboy as fast as his wooden legs would go.

“Good afternoon, noble parent!” he cried, delightedly.“I’m glad to see you are here. That terrible Saw-Horse ran awaywith me.”

“I suspected it,” said Tip. “Did you get hurt? Are youcracked at all?”

“No, I arrived safely,” answered Jack, “and his Majesty hasbeen very kind indeed to me.”

At this moment the Soldier with the Green Whiskers returned, and the Scarecrowasked:

“By the way, who has conquered me?”

“A regiment of girls, gathered from the four corners of the Land ofOz,” replied the Soldier, still pale with fear.

“But where was my Standing Army at the time?” inquired his Majesty,looking at the Soldier, gravely.

“Your Standing Army was running,” answered the fellow, honestly;“for no man could face the terrible weapons of the invaders.”

“Well,” said the Scarecrow, after a moment’s thought,“I don’t mind much the loss of my throne, for it’s a tiresomejob to rule over the Emerald City. And this crown is so heavy that it makes myhead ache. But I hope the Conquerors have no intention of injuring me, justbecause I happen to be the King.”

“I heard them, say” remarked Tip, with some hesitation, “thatthey intend to make a rag carpet of your outside and stuff their sofa-cushionswith your inside.”

“Then I am really in danger,” declared his Majesty, positively,“and it will be wise for me to consider a means to escape.”

“Where can you go?” asked Jack Pumpkinhead.

“Why, to my friend the Tin Woodman, who rules over the Winkies, and callshimself their Emperor,” was the answer. “I am sure he will protectme.”

Tip was looking out the window.

“The palace is surrounded by the enemy,” said he. “It is toolate to escape. They would soon tear you to pieces.”

The Scarecrow sighed.

“In an emergency,” he announced, “it is always a good thingto pause and reflect. Please excuse me while I pause and reflect.”

“But we also are in danger,” said the Pumpkinhead, anxiously.“If any of these girls understand cooking, my end is not far off!”

“Nonsense!” exclaimed the Scarecrow. “they’re too busyto cook, even if they know how!”

“But should I remain here a prisoner for any length of time,”protested Jack, “I’m liable to spoil.”

“Ah! then you would not be fit to associate with,” returned theScarecrow. “The matter is more serious than I suspected.”

“You,” said the Pumpkinhead, gloomily, “are liable to livefor many years. My life is necessarily short. So I must take advantage of thefew days that remain to me.”

“There, there! Don’t worry,” answered the Scarecrowsoothingly; “if you’ll keep quiet long enough for me to think,I’ll try to find some way for us all to escape.”

So the others waited in patient silence while the Scarecrow walked to a cornerand stood with his face to the wall for a good five minutes. At the end of thattime he faced them with a more cheerful expression upon his painted face.

“Where is the Saw-Horse you rode here?” he asked the Pumpkinhead.

“Why, I said he was a jewel, and so your man locked him up in the royaltreasury,” said Jack.

“It was the only place I could think of your Majesty,” added theSoldier, fearing he had made a blunder.

“It pleases me very much,” said the Scarecrow. “Has theanimal been fed?”

“Oh, yes; I gave him a heaping peck of sawdust.”

“Excellent!” cried the Scarecrow. “Bring the horse here atonce.”

The Soldier hastened away, and presently they heard the clattering of thehorse’s wooden legs upon the pavement as he was led into the courtyard.

His Majesty regarded the steed critically. “He doesn’t seemespecially graceful!” he remarked, musingly. “but I suppose he canrun?”

“He can, indeed,” said Tip, gazing upon the Saw-Horse admiringly.

“Then, bearing us upon his back, he must make a dash through the ranks ofthe rebels and carry us to my friend the Tin Woodman,” announced theScarecrow.

“He can’t carry four!” objected Tip.

“No, but he may be induced to carry three,” said his Majesty.“I shall therefore leave my Royal Army Behind. For, from the ease withwhich he was conquered, I have little confidence in his powers.”

“Still, he can run,” declared Tip, laughing.

“I expected this blow” said the Soldier, sulkily; “but I canbear it. I shall disguise myself by cutting off my lovely green whiskers. And,after all, it is no more dangerous to face those reckless girls than to ridethis fiery, untamed wooden horse!”

“Perhaps you are right,” observed his Majesty. “But, for mypart, not being a soldier, I am fond of danger. Now, my boy, you must mountfirst. And please sit as close to the horse’s neck as possible.”

Tip climbed quickly to his place, and the Soldier and the Scarecrow managed tohoist the Pumpkinhead to a seat just behind him. There remained so little spacefor the King that he was liable to fall off as soon as the horse started.

“Fetch a clothesline,” said the King to his Army, “and tie usall together. Then if one falls off we will all fall off.”

And while the Soldier was gone for the clothesline his Majesty continued,“it is well for me to be careful, for my very existence is indanger.”

“I have to be as careful as you do,” said Jack.

“Not exactly,” replied the Scarecrow. “for if anythinghappened to me, that would be the end of me. But if anything happened to you,they could use you for seed.”

The Soldier now returned with a long line and tied all three firmly together,also lashing them to the body of the Saw-Horse; so there seemed little dangerof their tumbling off.

“Now throw open the gates,” commanded the Scarecrow, “and wewill make a dash to liberty or to death.”

The courtyard in which they were standing was located in the center of thegreat palace, which surrounded it on all sides. But in one place a passage ledto an outer gateway, which the Soldier had barred by order of his sovereign. Itwas through this gateway his Majesty proposed to escape, and the Royal Army nowled the Saw-Horse along the passage and unbarred the gate, which swung backwardwith a loud crash.

“Now,” said Tip to the horse, “you must save us all. Run asfast as you can for the gate of the City, and don’t let anything stopyou.”

“All right!” answered the Saw-Horse, gruffly, and dashed away sosuddenly that Tip had to gasp for breath and hold firmly to the post he haddriven into the creature’s neck.

Several of the girls, who stood outside guarding the palace, were knocked overby the Saw-Horse’s mad rush. Others ran screaming out of the way, andonly one or two jabbed their knitting-needles frantically at the escapingprisoners. Tip got one small prick in his left arm, which smarted for an hourafterward; but the needles had no effect upon the Scarecrow or JackPumpkinhead, who never even suspected they were being prodded.

As for the Saw-Horse, he made a wonderful record upsetting a fruit cart,overturning several meek looking men, and finally bowling over the new Guardianof the Gate—a fussy little fat woman appointed by General Jinjur.

Nor did the impetuous charger stop then. Once outside the walls of the EmeraldCity he dashed along the road to the West with fast and violent leaps thatshook the breath out of the boy and filled the Scarecrow with wonder.

Jack had ridden at this mad rate once before, so he devoted every effort toholding, with both hands, his pumpkin head upon its stick, enduring meantimethe dreadful jolting with the courage of a philosopher.

“Slow him up! Slow him up!” shouted the Scarecrow. “My strawis all shaking down into my legs.”

But Tip had no breath to speak, so the Saw-Horse continued his wild careerunchecked and with unabated speed.

Presently they came to the banks of a wide river, and without a pause thewooden steed gave one final leap and launched them all in mid-air.

A second later they were rolling, splashing and bobbing about in the water, thehorse struggling frantically to find a rest for its feet and its riders beingfirst plunged beneath the rapid current and then floating upon the surface likecorks.

The Journey to the Tin Woodman

Tip was well soaked and dripping water from every angle of his body. But hemanaged to lean forward and shout in the ear of the Saw-Horse:

“Keep still, you fool! Keep still!”

The horse at once ceased struggling and floated calmly upon the surface, itswooden body being as buoyant as a raft.

“What does that word ‘fool’ mean?” enquired the horse.

“It is a term of reproach,” answered Tip, somewhat ashamed of theexpression. “I only use it when I am angry.”

“Then it pleases me to be able to call you a fool, in return,” saidthe horse. “For I did not make the river, nor put it in our way; so onlya term of, reproach is fit for one who becomes angry with me for falling intothe water.”

“That is quite evident,” replied Tip; “so I will acknowledgemyself in the wrong.” Then he called out to the Pumpkinhead: “areyou all right, Jack?”

There was no reply. So the boy called to the King “are you all right,your majesty?”

The Scarecrow groaned.

“I’m all wrong, somehow,” he said, in a weak voice.“How very wet this water is!”

Tip was bound so tightly by the cord that he could not turn his head to look athis companions; so he said to the Saw-Horse:

“Paddle with your legs toward the shore.”

The horse obeyed, and although their progress was slow they finally reached theopposite river bank at a place where it was low enough to enable the creatureto scramble upon dry land.

With some difficulty the boy managed to get his knife out of his pocket and cutthe cords that bound the riders to one another and to the wooden horse. Heheard the Scarecrow fall to the ground with a mushy sound, and then he himselfquickly dismounted and looked at his friend Jack.

The wooden body, with its gorgeous clothing, still sat upright upon thehorse’s back; but the pumpkin head was gone, and only the sharpened stickthat served for a neck was visible. As for the Scarecrow, the straw in his bodyhad shaken down with the jolting and packed itself into his legs and the lowerpart of his body—which appeared very plump and round while his upper halfseemed like an empty sack. Upon his head the Scarecrow still wore the heavycrown, which had been sewed on to prevent his losing it; but the head was nowso damp and limp that the weight of the gold and jewels sagged forward andcrushed the painted face into a mass of wrinkles that made him look exactlylike a Japanese pug dog.

Tip would have laughed—had he not been so anxious about his man Jack. Butthe Scarecrow, however damaged, was all there, while the pumpkin head that wasso necessary to Jack’s existence was missing; so the boy seized a longpole that fortunately lay near at hand and anxiously turned again toward theriver.

Far out upon the waters he sighted the golden hue of the pumpkin, which gentlybobbed up and down with the motion of the waves. At that moment it was quiteout of Tip’s reach, but after a time it floated nearer and still neareruntil the boy was able to reach it with his pole and draw it to the shore. Thenhe brought it to the top of the bank, carefully wiped the water from itspumpkin face with his handkerchief, and ran with it to Jack and replaced thehead upon the man’s neck.

“Dear me!” were Jack’s first words. “What a dreadfulexperience! I wonder if water is liable to spoil pumpkins?”

Tip did not think a reply was necessary, for he knew that the Scarecrow alsostood in need of his help. So he carefully removed the straw from theKing’s body and legs, and spread it out in the sun to dry. The wetclothing he hung over the body of the Saw-Horse.

“If water spoils pumpkins,” observed Jack, with a deep sigh,“then my days are numbered.”

“I’ve never noticed that water spoils pumpkins,” returnedTip; “unless the water happens to be boiling. If your head isn’tcracked, my friend, you must be in fairly good condition.”

“Oh, my head isn’t cracked in the least,” declared Jack, morecheerfully.

“Then don’t worry,” retorted the boy. “Care once killeda cat.”

“Then,” said Jack, seriously, “I am very glad indeed that Iam not a cat.”

The sun was fast drying their clothing, and Tip stirred up his Majesty’sstraw so that the warm rays might absorb the moisture and make it as crisp anddry as ever. When this had been accomplished he stuffed the Scarecrow intosymmetrical shape and smoothed out his face so that he wore his usual gay andcharming expression.

“Thank you very much,” said the monarch, brightly, as he walkedabout and found himself to be well balanced. “There are several distinctadvantages in being a Scarecrow. For if one has friends near at hand to repairdamages, nothing very serious can happen to you.”

“I wonder if hot sunshine is liable to crack pumpkins,” said Jack,with an anxious ring in his voice.

“Not at all—not at all!” replied the Scarecrow, gaily.“All you need fear, my boy, is old age. When your golden youth hasdecayed we shall quickly part company—but you needn’t look forwardto it; we’ll discover the fact ourselves, and notify you. But come! Letus resume our journey. I am anxious to greet my friend the Tin Woodman.”

So they remounted the Saw-Horse, Tip holding to the post, the Pumpkinheadclinging to Tip, and the Scarecrow with both arms around the wooden form ofJack.

“Go slowly, for now there is no danger of pursuit,” said Tip to hissteed.

“All right!” responded the creature, in a voice rather gruff.

“Aren’t you a little hoarse?” asked the Pumpkinhead politely.

The Saw-Horse gave an angry prance and rolled one knotty eye backward towardTip.

“See here,” he growled, “can’t you protect me frominsult?”

“To be sure!” answered Tip, soothingly. “I am sure Jack meantno harm. And it will not do for us to quarrel, you know; we must all remaingood friends.”

“I’ll have nothing more to do with that Pumpkinhead,”declared the Saw-Horse, viciously. “he loses his head too easily to suitme.”

There seemed no fitting reply to this speech, so for a time they rode along insilence.

After a while the Scarecrow remarked:

“This reminds me of old times. It was upon this grassy knoll that I oncesaved Dorothy from the Stinging Bees of the Wicked Witch of the West.”

“Do Stinging Bees injure pumpkins?” asked Jack, glancing aroundfearfully.

“They are all dead, so it doesn’t matter,” replied theScarecrow. “And here is where Nick Chopper destroyed the WickedWitch’s Grey Wolves.”

“Who was Nick Chopper?” asked Tip.

“That is the name of my friend the Tin Woodman, answered his Majesty. Andhere is where the Winged Monkeys captured and bound us, and flew away withlittle Dorothy,” he continued, after they had traveled a little wayfarther.

“Do Winged Monkeys ever eat pumpkins?” asked Jack, with a shiver offear.

“I do not know; but you have little cause to, worry, for the WingedMonkeys are now the slaves of Glinda the Good, who owns the Golden Cap thatcommands their services,” said the Scarecrow, reflectively.

Then the stuffed monarch became lost in thought recalling the days of pastadventures. And the Saw-Horse rocked and rolled over the flower-strewn fieldsand carried its riders swiftly upon their way.

Twilight fell, bye and bye, and then the dark shadows of night. So Tip stoppedthe horse and they all proceeded to dismount.

“I’m tired out,” said the boy, yawning wearily; “andthe grass is soft and cool. Let us lie down here and sleep untilmorning.”

“I can’t sleep,” said Jack.

“I never do,” said the Scarecrow.

“I do not even know what sleep is,” said the Saw-Horse.

“Still, we must have consideration for this poor boy, who is made offlesh and blood and bone, and gets tired,” suggested the Scarecrow, inhis usual thoughtful manner. “I remember it was the same way with littleDorothy. We always had to sit through the night while she slept.”

“I’m sorry,” said Tip, meekly, “but I can’t helpit. And I’m dreadfully hungry, too!”

“Here is a new danger!” remarked Jack, gloomily. “I hope youare not fond of eating pumpkins.”

“Not unless they’re stewed and made into pies,” answered theboy, laughing. “So have no fears of me, friend Jack.”

“What a coward that Pumpkinhead is!” said the Saw-Horse,scornfully.

“You might be a coward yourself, if you knew you were liable tospoil!” retorted Jack, angrily.

“There!—there!” interrupted the Scarecrow; “don’tlet us quarrel. We all have our weaknesses, dear friends; so we must strive tobe considerate of one another. And since this poor boy is hungry and hasnothing whatever to eat, let us all remain quiet and allow him to sleep; for itis said that in sleep a mortal may forget even hunger.”

“Thank you!” exclaimed Tip, gratefully. “Your Majesty isfully as good as you are wise—and that is saying a good deal!”

He then stretched himself upon the grass and, using the stuffed form of theScarecrow for a pillow, was presently fast asleep.

A Nickel-Plated Emperor

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 nearby. These the boy ate greedily, finding them an ample breakfast, and afterwardthe little party resumed its Journey.

After an hour’s ride they reached the summit of a hill from whence theyespied the City of the Winkies and noted the tall domes of the Emperor’spalace 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! Ihope 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 WickedWitch was destroyed; and as Nick Chopper has the best heart in all the world Iam sure he has proved an excellent and able emperor.”

“I thought that ‘Emperor’ was the title of a person who rulesan empire,” said Tip, “and the Country of the Winkies is only aKingdom.”

“Don’t mention that to the Tin Woodman!” exclaimed theScarecrow, earnestly. “You would hurt his feelings terribly. He is aproud man, as he has every reason to be, and it pleases him to be termedEmperor 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 hardwork to stick upon its back; so there was little further conversation untilthey drew up beside the palace steps.

An aged Winkie, dressed in a uniform of silver cloth, came forward to assistthem 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, andfinally answered:

“I fear I must ask you to wait for a time. The Emperor is not receivingthis morning.”

“How is that?” enquired the Scarecrow, anxiously. “I hopenothing has happened to him.”

“Oh, no; nothing serious,” returned the man. “But this is hisMajesty’s day for being polished; and just now his august presence isthickly smeared with putz-pomade.”

“Oh, I see!” cried the Scarecrow, greatly reassured. “Myfriend was ever inclined to be a dandy, and I suppose he is now more proud thanever of his personal appearance.”

“He is, indeed,” said the man, with a polite bow. “Our mightyEmperor has lately caused himself to be nickel-plated.”

“Good Gracious!” the Scarecrow exclaimed at hearing this. “Ifhis wit bears the same polish, how sparkling it must be! But show usin—I’m sure the Emperor will receive us, even in his presentstate”

“The Emperor’s state is always magnificent,” said the man.“But I will venture to tell him of your arrival, and will receive hiscommands concerning you.”

So the party followed the servant into a splendid ante-room, and the Saw-Horseambled awkwardly after them, having no knowledge that a horse might be expectedto remain outside.

The travelers were at first somewhat awed by their surroundings, and even theScarecrow seemed impressed as he examined the rich hangings of silver clothcaught up into knots and fastened with tiny silver axes. Upon a handsomecenter-table stood a large silver oil-can, richly engraved with scenes from thepast adventures of the Tin Woodman, Dorothy, the Cowardly Lion and theScarecrow: the lines of the engraving being traced upon the silver in yellowgold. On the walls hung several portraits, that of the Scarecrow seeming to bethe most prominent and carefully executed, while a the large painting of thefamous Wizard of Oz, in act of presenting the Tin Woodman with a heart, coveredalmost one entire end of the room.

While the visitors gazed at these things in silent admiration they suddenlyheard 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 andcaught the Scarecrow in a close and loving embrace that creased him into manyfolds and wrinkles.

“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 hesurveyed the beloved, painted features.

But, alas! the face of the Scarecrow and many portions of his body bore greatblotches of putz-pomade; for the Tin Woodman, in his eagerness to welcome hisfriend, had quite forgotten the condition of his toilet and had rubbed thethick coating of paste from his own body to that of his comrade.

“Dear me!” said the Scarecrow dolefully. “What a messI’m in!”

“Never mind, my friend,” returned the Tin Woodman,“I’ll send you to my Imperial Laundry, and you’ll come out asgood as new.”

“Won’t I be mangled?” asked the Scarecrow.

“No, indeed!” was the reply. “But tell me, how came yourMajesty here? and who are your companions?”

The Scarecrow, with great politeness, introduced Tip and Jack Pumpkinhead, andthe 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 memberof our select society.”

“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; “butI am in constant terror of the day when I shall spoil.”

“Nonsense!” said the Emperor—but in a kindly, sympathetictone. “Do not, I beg of you, dampen today’s sun with the showers oftomorrow. For before your head has time to spoil you can have it canned, and inthat way it may be preserved indefinitely.”

Tip, during this conversation, was looking at the Woodman with undisguisedamazement, and noticed that the celebrated Emperor of the Winkies was composedentirely of pieces of tin, neatly soldered and riveted together into the formof a man. He rattled and clanked a little, as he moved, but in the main heseemed to be most cleverly constructed, and his appearance was only marred bythe 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 notin the most presentable condition, so he begged his friends to excuse him whilehe retired to his private apartment and allowed his servants to polish him.This was accomplished in a short time, and when the emperor returned hisnickel-plated body shone so magnificently that the Scarecrow heartilycongratulated 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 scratchedduring my adventurous experiences. You will observe this engraved star upon myleft breast. It not only indicates where my excellent heart lies, but coversvery neatly the patch made by the Wonderful Wizard when he placed that valuedorgan 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, Iam convinced, a strictly orthodox heart, although somewhat larger and warmerthan 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 haverisen 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 bothways,” answered the Scarecrow; “and these females are also of theopinion that men have ruled the land long enough. So they have captured mycity, robbed the treasury of all its jewels, and are running things to suitthemselves.”

“Dear me! What an extraordinary idea!” cried the Emperor, who wasboth shocked and surprised.

“And I heard some of them say,” said Tip, “that they intendto 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 theScarecrow again upon his throne.”

“I was sure you would help me,” remarked the Scarecrow in a pleasedvoice. “How large an army can you assemble?”

“We do not need an army,” replied the Woodman. “We four, withthe aid of my gleaming axe, are enough to strike terror into the hearts of therebels.”

“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 untilnow remained quietly standing in a corner, where the Emperor had not noticedhim. Tip immediately called the odd-looking creature to them, and it approachedso awkwardly that it nearly upset the beautiful center-table and the engravedoil-can.

“I begin to think,” remarked the Tin Woodman as he looked earnestlyat the Saw-Horse, “that wonders will never cease! How came this creaturealive?”

“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 theemperor. “A live Saw-Horse is a distinct novelty, and should prove aninteresting study. Does he know anything?”

“Well, I cannot claim any great experience in life,” the Saw-Horseanswered for himself. “but I seem to learn very quickly, and often itoccurs to me that I know more than any of those around me.”

“Perhaps you do,” said the emperor; “for experience does notalways mean wisdom. But time is precious just now, so let us quickly makepreparations to start upon our Journey.”

The emperor called his Lord High Chancellor and instructed him how to run thekingdom during his absence. Meanwhile the Scarecrow was taken apart and thepainted sack that served him for a head was carefully laundered and restuffedwith the brains originally given him by the great Wizard. His clothes were alsocleaned and pressed by the Imperial tailors, and his crown polished and againsewed upon his head, for the Tin Woodman insisted he should not renounce thisbadge of royalty. The Scarecrow now presented a very respectable appearance,and although in no way addicted to vanity he was quite pleased with himself andstrutted a trifle as he walked. While this was being done Tip mended the woodenlimbs of Jack Pumpkinhead and made them stronger than before, and the Saw-Horsewas 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 tothe emerald City, the Tin Woodman bearing upon his shoulder a gleaming axe andleading the way, while the Pumpkinhead rode upon the Saw-Horse and Tip and theScarecrow walked upon either side to make sure that he didn’t fall off orbecome damaged.

Mr. H. M. Woggle-Bug, T. E.

Now, General Jinjur—who, you will remember, commanded the Army ofRevolt—was rendered very uneasy by the escape of the Scarecrow from theEmerald City. She feared, and with good reason, that if his Majesty and the TinWoodman Joined forces, it would mean danger to her and her entire army; for thepeople of Oz had not yet forgotten the deeds of these famous heroes, who hadpassed successfully through so many startling adventures.

So Jinjur sent post-haste for old Mombi, the witch, and promised her largerewards 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 escapeand the theft of the precious Powder of Life; so she needed no urging to induceher to travel to the Emerald City to assist Jinjur in defeating the Scarecrowand the Tin Woodman, who had made Tip one of their friends.

Mombi had no sooner arrived at the royal palace than she discovered, by meansof her secret magic, that the adventurers were starting upon their Journey tothe Emerald City; so she retired to a small room high up in a tower and lockedherself in while she practised such arts as she could command to prevent thereturn 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 everystep of this Journey, yet I fear we have already lost our way.”

“That is quite impossible!” protested the Scarecrow. “Why doyou think, my dear friend, that we have gone astray?”

“Why, here before us is a great field of sunflowers—and I never sawthis field before in all my life.”

At these words they all looked around, only to find that they were indeedsurrounded by a field of tall stalks, every stalk bearing at its top a giganticsunflower. And not only were these flowers almost blinding in their vivid huesof red and gold, but each one whirled around upon its stalk like a miniaturewind-mill, completely dazzling the vision of the beholders and so mystifyingthem 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 ofimpatience and advanced with swinging axe to cut down the stalks before him.But now the sunflowers suddenly stopped their rapid whirling, and the travelersplainly saw a girl’s face appear in the center of each flower. Theselovely faces looked upon the astonished band with mocking smiles, and thenburst 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 andwere 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,” saidhe, despondently. “and yet I do not know how else we can proceed upon ourway”

“They looked to me strangely like the faces of the Army of Revolt,”mused the Scarecrow. “But I cannot conceive how the girls could havefollowed us here so quickly.”

“I believe it’s magic,” said Tip, positively, “and thatsomeone is playing a trick upon us. I’ve known old Mombi do things likethat before. Probably it’s nothing more than an illusion, and there areno sunflowers here at all.”

“Then let us shut our eyes and walk forward,” suggested theWoodman.

“Excuse me,” replied the Scarecrow. “My eyes are not paintedto shut. Because you happen to have tin eyelids, you must not imagine we areall built in the same way.”

“And the eyes of the Saw-Horse are knot eyes,” said Jack, leaningforward 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 alreadyso dazzled that I can scarcely see.”

So the Pumpkinhead rode boldly forward, and Tip grasped the stub tail of theSaw-Horse and followed with closed eyes. The Scarecrow and the Tin Woodmanbrought up the rear, and before they had gone many yards a Joyful shout fromJack announced that the way was clear before them.

Then all paused to look backward, but not a trace of the field of sunflowersremained.

More cheerfully, now they proceeded upon their Journey; but old Mombi had sochanged the appearance of the landscape that they would surely have been losthad 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 asafe guide.

However, other difficulties lay before them. The Saw-Horse stepped into arabbit hole and fell to the ground. The Pumpkinhead was pitched high into theair, and his history would probably have ended at that exact moment had not theTin Woodman skillfully caught the pumpkin as it descended and saved it frominjury.

Tip soon had it fitted to the neck again and replaced Jack upon his feet. Butthe Saw-Horse did not escape so easily. For when his leg was pulled from therabbit hole it was found to be broken short off, and must be replaced orrepaired before he could go a step farther.

“This is quite serious,” said the Tin Woodman. “If there weretrees near by I might soon manufacture another leg for this animal; but Icannot see even a shrub for miles around.”

“And there are neither fences nor houses in this part of the land ofOz,” added the Scarecrow, disconsolately.

“Then what shall we do?” enquired the boy.

“I suppose I must start my brains working,” replied his Majesty theScarecrow; “for experience has, taught me that I can do anything if I buttake time to think it out.”

“Let us all think,” said Tip; “and perhaps we shall find away to repair the Saw-Horse.”

So they sat in a row upon the grass and began to think, while the Saw-Horseoccupied itself by gazing curiously upon its broken limb.

“Does it hurt?” asked the Tin Woodman, in a soft, sympatheticvoice.

“Not in the least,” returned the Saw-Horse; “but my pride isinjured to find that my anatomy is so brittle.”

For a time the little group remained in silent thought. Presently the TinWoodman 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 mostextraordinary object they had ever beheld. It advanced quickly and noiselesslyover the soft grass and in a few minutes stood before the adventurers andregarded them with an astonishment equal to their own.

The Scarecrow was calm under all circumstances.

“Good morning!” he said, politely.

The stranger removed his hat with a flourish, bowed very low, and thenresponded:

“Good morning, one and all. I hope you are, as an aggregation, enjoyingexcellent health. Permit me to present my card.”

With this courteous speech it extended a card toward the Scarecrow, whoaccepted it, turned it over and over, and handed it with a shake of his head toTip.

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 andturned 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 theWoggle-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 ofjudgment and discernment. Does it not occur to you that I am several thousandtimes greater than any Woggle-Bug you ever saw before? Therefore it is plainlyevident that I am Highly Magnified, and there is no good reason why you shoulddoubt the fact.”

“Pardon me,” returned the Scarecrow. “My brains are slightlymixed 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 acondescending smile. “To be more explicit, the initials mean that I amThoroughly Educated.”

“Oh!” said the Scarecrow, much relieved.

Tip had not yet taken his eyes off this wonderful personage. What he saw was agreat, round, buglike body supported upon two slender legs which ended indelicate feet—the toes curling upward. The body of the Woggle-Bug wasrather flat, and judging from what could be seen of it was of a glistening darkbrown color upon the back, while the front was striped with alternate bands oflight brown and white, blending together at the edges. Its arms were fully asslender as its legs, and upon a rather long neck was perched its head—notunlike 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 thatdecorated the sides of its head like two miniature, curling pig tails. It mustbe admitted that the round, black eyes were rather bulging in appearance; butthe 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 silklining and a flower in the button-hole; a vest of white duck that stretchedtightly across the wide body; knickerbockers of fawn-colored plush, fastened atthe knees with gilt buckles; and, perched upon its small head, was jauntily seta tall silk hat.

Standing upright before our amazed friends the Woggle-Bug appeared to be fullyas tall as the Tin Woodman; and surely no bug in all the Land of Oz had everbefore attained so enormous a size.

“I confess,” said the Scarecrow, “that your abrupt appearancehas caused me surprise, and no doubt has startled my companions. I hope,however, that this circumstance will not distress you. We shall probably getused 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 Icannot be classed with ordinary insects and am entitled to both curiosity andadmiration 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 youwill be better able to comprehend my unusual—may I sayremarkable?—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 ofwanderers, and told them the following story:

A Highly Magnified History

“It is but honest that I should acknowledge at the beginning of myrecital that I was born an ordinary Woggle-Bug,” began the creature, in afrank and friendly tone. “Knowing no better, I used my arms as well as mylegs for walking, and crawled under the edges of stones or hid among the rootsof grasses with no thought beyond finding a few insects smaller than myself tofeed upon.

“The chill nights rendered me stiff and motionless, for I wore noclothing, but each morning the warm rays of the sun gave me new life andrestored me to activity. A horrible existence is this, but you must remember itis the regular ordained existence of Woggle-Bugs, as well as of many other tinycreatures that inhabit the earth.

“But Destiny had singled me out, humble though I was, for a grander fate!One day I crawled near to a country school house, and my curiosity beingexcited by the monotonous hum of the students within, I made bold to enter andcreep along a crack between two boards until I reached the far end, where, infront of a hearth of glowing embers, sat the master at his desk.

“No one noticed so small a creature as a Woggle-Bug, and when I foundthat the hearth was even warmer and more comfortable than the sunshine, Iresolved to establish my future home beside it. So I found a charming nestbetween two bricks and hid myself therein for many, many months.

“Professor Nowitall is, doubtless, the most famous scholar in the land ofOz, and after a few days I began to listen to the lectures and discourses hegave his pupils. Not one of them was more attentive than the humble, unnoticedWoggle-Bug, and I acquired in this way a fund of knowledge that I will myselfconfess is simply marvelous. That is why I place ‘T.E.’ ThoroughlyEducated upon my cards; for my greatest pride lies in the fact that the worldcannot produce another Woggle-Bug with a tenth part of my own culture anderudition.”

“I do not blame you,” said the Scarecrow. “Education is athing to be proud of. I’m educated myself. The mess of brains given me bythe Great Wizard is considered by my friends to be unexcelled.”

“Nevertheless,” interrupted the Tin Woodman, “a good heartis, I believe, much more desirable than education or brains.”

“To me,” said the Saw-Horse, “a good leg is more desirablethan either.”

“Could seeds be considered in the light of brains?” enquired thePumpkinhead, abruptly.

“Keep quiet!” commanded Tip, sternly.

“Very well, dear father,” answered the obedient Jack.

The Woggle-Bug listened patiently—even respectfully—to theseremarks, and then resumed his story.

“I must have lived fully three years in that secluded school-househearth,” said he, “drinking thirstily of the ever-flowing fount oflimpid knowledge before me.”

“Quite poetical,” commented the Scarecrow, nodding his headapprovingly.

“But one, day” continued the Bug, “a marvelous circumstanceoccurred that altered my very existence and brought me to my present pinnacleof greatness. The Professor discovered me in the act of crawling across thehearth, and before I could escape he had caught me between his thumb andforefinger.

“‘My dear children,’ said he, ‘I have captured aWoggle-Bug—a very rare and interesting specimen. Do any of you know whata Woggle-Bug is?’

“‘No!’ yelled the scholars, in chorus.

“‘Then,’ said the Professor, ‘I will get out my famousmagnifying-glass and throw the insect upon a screen in a highly-magnifiedcondition, that you may all study carefully its peculiar construction andbecome acquainted with its habits and manner of life.’

“He then brought from a cupboard a most curious instrument, and before Icould realize what had happened I found myself thrown upon a screen in ahighly-magnified state—even as you now behold me.

“The students stood up on their stools and craned their heads forward toget a better view of me, and two little girls jumped upon the sill of an openwindow where they could see more plainly.

“‘Behold!’ cried the Professor, in a loud voice, ‘thishighly-magnified Woggle-Bug; one of the most curious insects inexistence!’

“Being Thoroughly Educated, and knowing what is required of a culturedgentleman, at this juncture I stood upright and, placing my hand upon my bosom,made a very polite bow. My action, being unexpected, must have startled them,for one of the little girls perched upon the window-sill gave a scream and fellbackward out the window, drawing her companion with her as she disappeared.

“The Professor uttered a cry of horror and rushed away through the doorto see if the poor children were injured by the fall. The scholars followedafter him in a wild mob, and I was left alone in the school-room, still in aHighly-Magnified state and free to do as I pleased.

“It immediately occurred to me that this was a good opportunity toescape. I was proud of my great size, and realized that now I could safelytravel anywhere in the world, while my superior culture would make me a fitassociate for the most learned person I might chance to meet.

“So, while the Professor picked the little girls—who were morefrightened than hurt—off the ground, and the pupils clustered around himclosely grouped, I calmly walked out of the school-house, turned a corner, andescaped unnoticed to a grove of trees that stood near”

“Wonderful!” exclaimed the Pumpkinhead, admiringly.

“It was, indeed,” agreed the Woggle-Bug. “I have never ceasedto congratulate myself for escaping while I was Highly Magnified; for even myexcessive knowledge would have proved of little use to me had I remained atiny, insignificant insect.”

“I didn’t know before,” said Tip, looking at the Woggle-Bugwith a puzzled expression, “that insects wore clothes.”

“Nor do they, in their natural state,” returned the stranger.“But in the course of my wanderings I had the good fortune to save theninth life of a tailor—tailors having, like cats, nine lives, as youprobably know. The fellow was exceedingly grateful, for had he lost that ninthlife it would have been the end of him; so he begged permission to furnish mewith the stylish costume I now wear. It fits very nicely, does it not?”and the Woggle-Bug stood up and turned himself around slowly, that all mightexamine his person.

“He must have been a good tailor,” said the Scarecrow, somewhatenviously.

“He was a good-hearted tailor, at any rate,” observed Nick Chopper.

“But where were you going, when you met us?” Tip asked theWoggle-Bug.

“Nowhere in particular,” was the reply, “although it is myintention soon to visit the Emerald City and arrange to give a course oflectures to select audiences on the ‘Advantages ofMagnification.’”

“We are bound for the Emerald City now,” said the Tin Woodman;“so, if it pleases you to do so, you are welcome to travel in ourcompany.”

The Woggle-Bug bowed with profound grace.

“It will give me great pleasure,” said he “to accept yourkind invitation; for nowhere in the Land of Oz could I hope to meet with socongenial a company.”

“That is true,” acknowledged the Pumpkinhead. “We are quiteas congenial as flies and honey.”

“But—pardon me if I seem inquisitive—are you not allrather—ahem! rather unusual?” asked the Woggle-Bug, looking fromone 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, anaccent of pride in his voice.

“Then, if you are sufficiently rested and refreshed, let us bend oursteps 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 newlimb from. And we can’t leave the horse behind because the Pumpkinhead isso stiff in his Joints that he has to ride.”

“How very unfortunate!” cried the Woggle-Bug. Then he looked theparty over carefully and said:

“If the Pumpkinhead is to ride, why not use one of his legs to make a legfor 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 towork, my dear Nick, and fit the Pumpkinhead’s leg to theSaw-Horse.”

Jack was not especially pleased with this idea; but he submitted to having hisleft leg amputated by the Tin Woodman and whittled down to fit the left leg ofthe Saw-Horse. Nor was the Saw-Horse especially pleased with the operation,either; for he growled a good deal about being “butchered,” as hecalled it, and afterward declared that the new leg was a disgrace to arespectable Saw-Horse.

“I beg you to be more careful in your speech,” said thePumpkinhead, sharply. “Remember, if you please, that it is my leg you areabusing.”

“I cannot forget it,” retorted the Saw-Horse, “for it isquite as flimsy as the rest of your person.”

“Flimsy! me flimsy!” cried Jack, in a rage. “How dare youcall me flimsy?”

“Because you are built as absurdly as a jumping-jack,” sneered thehorse, rolling his knotty eyes in a vicious manner. “Even your headwon’t stay straight, and you never can tell whether you are lookingbackwards or forwards!”

“Friends, I entreat you not to quarrel!” pleaded the Tin Woodman,anxiously. “As a matter of fact, we are none of us above criticism; solet 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 thebest 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 hisseat with cords, so that he could not possibly fall off.

And then, following the lead of the Scarecrow, they all advanced in thedirection of the Emerald City.

Old Mombi indulges in Witchcraft

They soon discovered that the Saw-Horse limped, for his new leg was a trifletoo long. So they were obliged to halt while the Tin Woodman chopped it downwith his axe, after which the wooden steed paced along more comfortably. Butthe 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 walkingalongside, “you should consider the accident most fortunate. For a horseis never of much use until he has been broken.”

“I beg your pardon,” said Tip, rather provoked, for he felt a warminterest in both the Saw-Horse and his man Jack; “but permit me to saythat your joke is a poor one, and as old as it is poor.”

“Still, it is a Joke,” declared the Woggle-Bug; firmly, “anda Joke derived from a play upon words is considered among educated people to beeminently proper.”

“What does that mean?” enquired the Pumpkinhead, stupidly.

“It means, my dear friend,” explained the Woggle-Bug, “thatour language contains many words having a double meaning; and that to pronouncea joke that allows both meanings of a certain word, proves the joker a personof culture and refinement, who has, moreover, a thorough command of thelanguage.”

“I don’t believe that,” said Tip, plainly; “anybody canmake a pun.”

“Not so,” rejoined the Woggle-Bug, stiffly. “It requireseducation 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 Isay 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 thenbe a horse-and-buggy.”

At this the Scarecrow gave a gasp and the Tin Woodman stopped short and lookedreproachfully at the Woggle-Bug. At the same time the Saw-Horse loudly snortedhis 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, andthe 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 bearranged or classified, I begin to suspect that yours are slightly tangled. Inany event, I must beg you to restrain your superior education while in oursociety.”

“We are not very particular,” added the Tin Woodman; “and weare exceedingly kind hearted. But if your superior culture gets leakyagain—” He did not complete the sentence, but he twirled hisgleaming axe so carelessly that the Woggle-Bug looked frightened, and shrankaway to a safe distance.

The others marched on in silence, and the Highly Magnified one, after a periodof deep thought, said in an humble voice:

“I will endeavor to restrain myself.”

“That is all we can expect,” returned the Scarecrow pleasantly; andgood nature being thus happily restored to the party, they proceeded upon theirway.

When they again stopped to allow Tip to rest—the boy being the only onethat seemed to tire—the Tin Woodman noticed many small, round holes inthe grassy meadow.

“This must be a village of the Field Mice,” he said to theScarecrow. “I wonder if my old friend, the Queen of the Mice, is in thisneighborhood.”

“If she is, she may be of great service to us,” answered theScarecrow, who was impressed by a sudden thought. “See if you can callher, my dear Nick.”

So the Tin Woodman blew a shrill note upon a silver whistle that hung aroundhis neck, and presently a tiny grey mouse popped from a near-by hole andadvanced 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 shesat up and displayed the tiny golden crown upon her head. “Can I doanything to assist my old friends?”

“You can, indeed,” replied the Scarecrow, eagerly. “Let me, Iintreat 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 themhidden in the straw which stuffs my body, and when I give them the signal byunbuttoning my jacket, they have only to rush out and scamper home again asfast as they can. By doing this they will assist me to regain my throne, whichthe Army of Revolt has taken from me.”

“In that case,” said the Queen, “I will not refuse yourrequest. Whenever you are ready, I will call twelve of my most intelligentsubjects.”

“I am ready now” returned the Scarecrow. Then he lay flat upon theground and unbuttoned his jacket, displaying the mass of straw with which hewas stuffed.

The Queen uttered a little piping call, and in an instant a dozen pretty fieldmice had emerged from their holes and stood before their ruler, awaiting herorders.

What the Queen said to them none of our travelers could understand, for it wasin the mouse language; but the field mice obeyed without hesitation, runningone after the other to the Scarecrow and hiding themselves in the straw of hisbreast.

When all of the twelve mice had thus concealed themselves, the Scarecrowbuttoned his Jacket securely and then arose and thanked the Queen for herkindness.

“One thing more you might do to serve us,” suggested the TinWoodman; “and that is to run ahead and show us the way to the EmeraldCity. For some enemy is evidently trying to prevent us from reaching it.”

“I will do that gladly,” returned the Queen. “Are youready?”

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 Micerunning swiftly ahead and then pausing until the travelers drew near, when awayshe would dart again.

Without this unerring guide the Scarecrow and his comrades might never havegained the Emerald City; for many were the obstacles thrown in their way by thearts of old Mombi. Yet not one of the obstacles really existed—all werecleverly contrived deceptions. For when they came to the banks of a rushingriver that threatened to bar their way the little Queen kept steadily on,passing through the seeming flood in safety; and our travelers followed herwithout encountering a single drop of water.

Again, a high wall of granite towered high above their heads and opposed theiradvance. But the grey Field Mouse walked straight through it, and the othersdid 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 sawforty roads branching off from their feet in forty different directions; andsoon these forty roads began whirling around like a mighty wheel, first in onedirection 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 seenno more.

Mombi’s last trick was the most fearful of all. She sent a sheet ofcrackling flame rushing over the meadow to consume them; and for the first timethe 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 Iever encountered.”

“I’m off, too!” cried the Saw-Horse, turning and prancingwith agitation; “for my wood is so dry it would burn likekindlings.”

“Is fire dangerous to pumpkins?” asked Jack, fearfully.

“You’ll be baked like a tart—and so will I!” answeredthe 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 fewsensible words.

“Look at the Field Mouse!” he shouted. “The fire does notburn her in the least. In fact, it is no fire at all, but only adeception.”

Indeed, to watch the little Queen march calmly through the advancing flamesrestored courage to every member of the party, and they followed her withoutbeing even scorched.

“This is surely a most extraordinary adventure,” said theWoggle-Bug, who was greatly amazed; “for it upsets all the Natural Lawsthat I heard Professor Nowitall teach in the school-house.”

“Of course it does,” said the Scarecrow, wisely. “All magicis unnatural, and for that reason is to be feared and avoided. But I see beforeus the gates of the Emerald City, so I imagine we have now overcome all themagical obstacles that seemed to oppose us.”

Indeed, the walls of the City were plainly visible, and the Queen of the FieldMice, 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 theQueen, and in a flash she had darted away upon her journey home.

The Prisoners of the Queen

Approaching the gateway of the Emerald City the travelers found it guarded bytwo girls of the Army of Revolt, who opposed their entrance by drawing theknitting-needles from their hair and threatening to prod the first that camenear.

But the Tin Woodman was not afraid.

“At the worst they can but scratch my beautiful nickel-plate,” hesaid. “But there will be no ‘worst,’ for I think I can manageto frighten these absurd soldiers very easily. Follow me closely, all ofyou!”

Then, swinging his axe in a great circle to right and left before him, headvanced upon the gate, and the others followed him without hesitation.

The girls, who had expected no resistance whatever, were terrified by the sweepof the glittering axe and fled screaming into the city; so that our travelerspassed the gates in safety and marched down the green marble pavement of thewide street toward the royal palace.

“At this rate we will soon have your Majesty upon the throneagain,” said the Tin Woodman, laughing at his easy conquest of theguards.

“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 weresweeping 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 abushy beard, who wore an apron and was wheeling a baby-carriage along thesidewalk.

“Why, we’ve had a revolution, your Majesty as you ought to knowvery well,” replied the man; “and since you went away the womenhave been running things to suit themselves. I’m glad you have decided tocome back and restore order, for doing housework and minding the children iswearing out the strength of every man in the Emerald City.”

“Hm!” said the Scarecrow, thoughtfully. “If it is such hardwork 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 castiron.”

No movement was made, as they passed along the street, to oppose theirprogress. Several of the women stopped their gossip long enough to cast curiouslooks upon our friends, but immediately they would turn away with a laugh or asneer and resume their chatter. And when they met with several girls belongingto the Army of Revolt, those soldiers, instead of being alarmed or appearingsurprised, merely stepped out of the way and allowed them to advance withoutprotest.

This action rendered the Scarecrow uneasy.

“I’m afraid we are walking into a trap,” said he.

“Nonsense!” returned Nick Chopper, confidently; “the sillycreatures 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. Unopposed they reached the royalpalace and marched up the marble steps, which had once been thickly crustedwith emeralds but were now filled with tiny holes where the jewels had beenruthlessly torn from their settings by the Army of Revolt. And so far not arebel barred their way.

Through the arched hallways and into the magnificent throne room marched theTin Woodman and his followers, and here, when the green silken curtains fellbehind them, they saw a curious sight.

Seated within the glittering throne was General Jinjur, with theScarecrow’s second-best crown upon her head, and the royal sceptre in herright 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 leanedupon his axe and the others formed a half-circle back of his Majesty’sperson.

“How dare you sit in my throne?” demanded the Scarecrow, sternlyeyeing the intruder. “Don’t you know you are guilty of treason, andthat there is a law against treason?”

“The throne belongs to whoever is able to take it,” answeredJinjur, 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, andmust 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 thatpersonage. “for laws were never meant to be understood, and it is foolishto 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 backto 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 curledscornfully.

“Or give her a good shaking!” added the Saw-Horse.

“No,” said the Tin Woodman, “we must treat the poor girl withgentleness. Let us give her all the Jewels she can carry, and send her awayhappy and contented.”

At this Queen Jinjur laughed aloud, and the next minute clapped her prettyhands together thrice, as if for a signal.

“You are very absurd creatures,” said she; “but I am tired ofyour nonsense and have no time to bother with you longer.”

While the monarch and his friends listened in amazement to this impudentspeech, a startling thing happened. The Tin Woodman’s axe was snatchedfrom his grasp by some person behind him, and he found himself disarmed andhelpless. At the same instant a shout of laughter rang in the ears of thedevoted band, and turning to see whence this came they found themselvessurrounded by the Army of Revolt, the girls bearing in either hand theirglistening knitting-needles. The entire throne room seemed to be filled withthe rebels, and the Scarecrow and his comrades realized that they wereprisoners.

“You see how foolish it is to oppose a woman’s wit,” saidJinjur, gaily; “and this event only proves that I am more fit to rule theEmerald City than a Scarecrow. I bear you no ill will, I assure you; but lestyou should prove troublesome to me in the future I shall order you all to bedestroyed. That is, all except the boy, who belongs to old Mombi and must berestored to her keeping. The rest of you are not human, and therefore it willnot be wicked to demolish you. The Saw-Horse and the Pumpkinhead’s body Iwill have chopped up for kindling-wood; and the pumpkin shall be made intotarts. The Scarecrow will do nicely to start a bonfire, and the tin man can becut into small pieces and fed to the goats. As for this immenseWoggle-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 uponone another in a panic of fear. The Scarecrow alone did not give way todespair. He stood quietly before the Queen and his brow was wrinkled in deepthought as he strove to find some means to escape.

While thus engaged he felt the straw within his breast move gently. At once hisexpression changed from sadness to joy, and raising his hand he quicklyunbuttoned the front of his jacket.

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 leapedfrom his bosom to the floor and scampered away between the feet of the Army ofRevolt. Another mouse quickly followed; then another and another, in rapidsuccession. And suddenly such a scream of terror went up from the Army that itmight easily have filled the stoutest heart with consternation. The flight thatensued turned to a stampede, and the stampede to a panic.

For while the startled mice rushed wildly about the room the Scarecrow had onlytime to note a whirl of skirts and a twinkling of feet as the girls disappearedfrom the palace—pushing and crowding one another in their mad efforts toescape.

The Queen, at the first alarm, stood up on the cushions of the throne and beganto dance frantically upon her tiptoes. Then a mouse ran up the cushions, andwith a terrified leap poor Jinjur shot clear over the head of the Scarecrow andescaped through an archway—never pausing in her wild career until she hadreached the city gates.

So, in less time than I can explain, the throne room was deserted by all savethe Scarecrow and his friends, and the Woggle-Bug heaved a deep sigh of reliefas he exclaimed:

“Thank goodness, we are saved!”

“For a time, yes;” answered the Tin Woodman. “But the enemywill 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, ranto the various entrances of the royal palace and closed the heavy doors,bolting and locking them securely. Then, knowing that the Army of Revolt couldnot batter down the barriers in several days, the adventurers gathered oncemore in the throne room for a council of war.

The Scarecrow Takes Time to Think

“It seems to me,” began the Scarecrow, when all were againassembled in the throne room, “that the girl Jinjur is quite right inclaiming to be Queen. And if she is right, then I am wrong, and we have nobusiness 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 methat 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 theScarecrow.

“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,” heannounced.

“I thought so,” returned the Scarecrow. “We are as trulytheir prisoners as we were before the mice frightened them from thepalace.”

“My friend is right,” said Nick Chopper, who had been polishing hisbreast with a bit of chamois-leather. “Jinjur is still the Queen, and weare her prisoners.”

“But I hope she cannot get at us,” exclaimed the Pumpkinhead, witha shiver of fear. “She threatened to make tarts of me, you know.”

“Don’t worry,” said the Tin Woodman. “It cannot mattergreatly. If you stay shut up here you will spoil in time, anyway. A good tartis 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—sothat I would keep indefinitely.”

“Shucks!” returned Tip, indignantly. “You ought to be gladthat I made you at all.” Then he added, reflectively, “everythinghas to come to an end, some time.”

“But I beg to remind you,” broke in the Woggle-Bug, who had adistressed look in his bulging, round eyes, “that this terrible QueenJinjur suggested making a goulash of me—Me! the only Highly Magnified andThoroughly 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 theTin Woodman, turning toward his friend.

“Well, perhaps,” acknowledged the Scarecrow.

The Woggle-Bug groaned.

“I can see, in my mind’s eye,” said he, mournfully,“the goats eating small pieces of my dear comrade, the Tin Woodman, whilemy soup is being cooked on a bonfire built of the Saw-Horse and JackPumpkinhead’s body, and Queen Jinjur watches me boil while she feeds theflames with my friend the Scarecrow!”

This morbid picture cast a gloom over the entire party, making them restlessand anxious.

“It can’t happen for some time,” said the Tin Woodman, tryingto speak cheerfully; “for we shall be able to keep Jinjur out of thepalace until she manages to break down the doors.”

“And in the meantime I am liable to starve to death, and so is theWoggle-Bug,” announced Tip.

“As for me,” said the Woggle-Bug, “I think that I could livefor some time on Jack Pumpkinhead. Not that I prefer pumpkins for food; but Ibelieve they are somewhat nutritious, and Jack’s head is large andplump.”

“How heartless!” exclaimed the Tin Woodman, greatly shocked.“Are we cannibals, let me ask? Or are we faithful friends?”

“I see very clearly that we cannot stay shut up in this palace,”said the Scarecrow, with decision. “So let us end this mournful talk andtry to discover a means to escape.”

At this suggestion they all gathered eagerly around the throne, wherein wasseated the Scarecrow, and as Tip sat down upon a stool there fell from hispocket a pepper-box, which rolled upon the floor.

“What is this?” asked Nick Chopper, picking up the box.

“Be careful!” cried the boy. “That’s my Powder of Life.Don’t spill it, for it is nearly gone.”

“And what is the Powder of Life?” enquired the Scarecrow, as Tipreplaced the box carefully in his pocket.

“It’s some magical stuff old Mombi got from a crookedsorcerer,” explained the boy. “She brought Jack to life with it,and afterward I used it to bring the Saw-Horse to life. I guess it will makeanything live that is sprinkled with it; but there’s only about one doseleft.”

“Then it is very precious,” said the Tin Woodman.

“Indeed it is,” agreed the Scarecrow. “It may prove our bestmeans of escape from our difficulties. I believe I will think for a fewminutes; so I will thank you, friend Tip, to get out your knife and rip thisheavy crown from my forehead.”

Tip soon cut the stitches that had fastened the crown to the Scarecrow’shead, and the former monarch of the Emerald City removed it with a sigh ofrelief and hung it on a peg beside the throne.

“That is my last memento of royalty” said he; “and I’mglad to get rid of it. The former King of this City, who was named Pastoria,lost the crown to the Wonderful Wizard, who passed it on to me. Now the girlJinjur claims it, and I sincerely hope it will not give her a headache.”

“A kindly thought, which I greatly admire,” said the Tin Woodman,nodding approvingly.

“And now I will indulge in a quiet think,” continued the Scarecrow,lying back in the throne.

The others remained as silent and still as possible, so as not to disturb him;for all had great confidence in the extraordinary brains of the Scarecrow.

And, after what seemed a very long time indeed to the anxious watchers, thethinker sat up, looked upon his friends with his most whimsical expression, andsaid:

“My brains work beautifully today. I’m quite proud of them. Now,listen! If we attempt to escape through the doors of the palace we shall surelybe captured. And, as we can’t escape through the ground, there is onlyone other thing to be done. We must escape through the air!”

He paused to note the effect of these words; but all his hearers seemed puzzledand unconvinced.

“The Wonderful Wizard escaped in a balloon,” he continued.“We don’t know how to make a balloon, of course; but any sort ofthing that can fly through the air can carry us easily. So I suggest that myfriend the Tin Woodman, who is a skillful mechanic, shall build some sort of amachine, with good strong wings, to carry us; and our friend Tip can then bringthe Thing to life with his magical powder.”

“Bravo!” cried Nick Chopper.

“What splendid brains!” murmured Jack.

“Really quite clever!” said the Educated Woggle-Bug.

“I believe it can be done,” declared Tip; “that is, if theTin Woodman is equal to making the Thing.”

“I’ll do my best,” said Nick, cheerily; “and, as amatter of fact, I do not often fail in what I attempt. But the Thing will haveto be built on the roof of the palace, so it can rise comfortably into theair.”

“To be sure,” said the Scarecrow.

“Then let us search through the palace,” continued the Tin Woodman,“and carry all the material we can find to the roof, where I will beginmy work.”

“First, however,” said the Pumpkinhead, “I beg you willrelease me from this horse, and make me another leg to walk with. For in mypresent condition I am of no use to myself or to anyone else.”

So the Tin Woodman knocked a mahogany center-table to pieces with his axe andfitted one of the legs, which was beautifully carved, on to the body of JackPumpkinhead, who was very proud of the acquisition.

“It seems strange,” said he, as he watched the Tin Woodman work,“that my left leg should be the most elegant and substantial part ofme.”

“That proves you are unusual,” returned the Scarecrow. “and Iam convinced that the only people worthy of consideration in this world are theunusual ones. For the common folks are like the leaves of a tree, and live anddie unnoticed.”

“Spoken like a philosopher!” cried the Woggle-Bug, as he assistedthe Tin Woodman to set Jack upon his feet.

“How do you feel now?” asked Tip, watching the Pumpkinhead stumparound to try his new leg.

“As good as new” answered Jack, joyfully, “and quite ready toassist you all to escape.”

“Then let us get to work,” said the Scarecrow, in a business-liketone.

So, glad to be doing anything that might lead to the end of their captivity,the friends separated to wander over the palace in search of fitting materialto use in the construction of their aerial machine.

The Astonishing Flight of the Gump

When the adventurers reassembled upon the roof it was found that a remarkablyqueer assortment of articles had been selected by the various members of theparty. No one seemed to have a very clear idea of what was required, but allhad brought something.

The Woggle-Bug had taken from its position over the mantle-piece in the greathallway the head of a Gump, which was adorned with wide-spreading antlers; andthis, with great care and greater difficulty, the insect had carried up thestairs to the roof. This Gump resembled an Elk’s head, only the noseturned upward in a saucy manner and there were whiskers upon its chin, likethose of a billy-goat. Why the Woggle-Bug selected this article he could nothave explained, except that it had aroused his curiosity.

Tip, with the aid of the Saw-Horse, had brought a large, upholstered sofa tothe roof. It was an oldfashioned piece of furniture, with high back and ends,and it was so heavy that even by resting the greatest weight upon the back ofthe Saw-Horse, the boy found himself out of breath when at last the clumsy sofawas dumped upon the roof.

The Pumpkinhead had brought a broom, which was the first thing he saw. TheScarecrow arrived with a coil of clothes-lines and ropes which he had takenfrom the courtyard, and in his trip up the stairs he had become so entangled inthe loose ends of the ropes that both he and his burden tumbled in a heap uponthe roof and might have rolled off if Tip had not rescued him.

The Tin Woodman appeared last. He also had been to the courtyard, where he hadcut four great, spreading leaves from a huge palm-tree that was the pride ofall the inhabitants of the Emerald City.

“My dear Nick!” exclaimed the Scarecrow, seeing what his friend haddone; “you have been guilty of the greatest crime any person can commitin the Emerald City. If I remember rightly, the penalty for chopping leavesfrom the royal palm-tree is to be killed seven times and afterward imprisonedfor life.”

“It cannot be helped now” answered the Tin Woodman, throwing downthe big leaves upon the roof. “But it may be one more reason why it isnecessary for us to escape. And now let us see what you have found for me towork with.”

Many were the doubtful looks cast upon the heap of miscellaneous material thatnow cluttered the roof, and finally the Scarecrow shook his head and remarked:

“Well, if friend Nick can manufacture, from this mess of rubbish, a Thingthat will fly through the air and carry us to safety, then I will acknowledgehim to be a better mechanic than I suspected.”

But the Tin Woodman seemed at first by no means sure of his powers, and onlyafter polishing his forehead vigorously with the chamois-leather did he resolveto undertake the task.

“The first thing required for the machine,” said he, “is abody big enough to carry the entire party. This sofa is the biggest thing wehave, and might be used for a body. But, should the machine ever tip sideways,we would all slide off and fall to the ground.”

“Why not use two sofas?” asked Tip. “There’s anotherone just like this down stairs.”

“That is a very sensible suggestion,” exclaimed the Tin Woodman.“You must fetch the other sofa at once.”

So Tip and the Saw-Horse managed, with much labor, to get the second sofa tothe roof; and when the two were placed together, edge to edge, the backs andends formed a protecting rampart all around the seats.

“Excellent!” cried the Scarecrow. “We can ride within thissnug nest quite at our ease.”

The two sofas were now bound firmly together with ropes and clothes-lines, andthen Nick Chopper fastened the Gump’s head to one end.

“That will show which is the front end of the Thing,” said he,greatly pleased with the idea. “And, really, if you examine itcritically, the Gump looks very well as a figure-head. These great palm-leaves,for which I have endangered my life seven times, must serve us as wings.”

“Are they strong enough?” asked the boy.

“They are as strong as anything we can get,” answered the Woodman;“and although they are not in proportion to the Thing’s body, weare not in a position to be very particular.”

So he fastened the palm-leaves to the sofas, two on each side.

Said the Woggle-Bug, with considerable admiration:

“The Thing is now complete, and only needs to be brought to life.”

“Stop a moment!” exclaimed Jack. “Are you not going to use mybroom?”

“What for?” asked the Scarecrow.

“Why, it can be fastened to the back end for a tail,” answered thePumpkinhead. “Surely you would not call the Thing complete without atail.”

“Hm!” said the Tin Woodman, “I do not see the use of a tail.We are not trying to copy a beast, or a fish, or a bird. All we ask of theThing is to carry us through the air.”

“Perhaps, after the Thing is brought to life, it can use a tail to steerwith,” suggested the Scarecrow. “For if it flies through the air itwill not be unlike a bird, and I’ve noticed that all birds have tails,which they use for a rudder while flying.”

“Very well,” answered Nick, “the broom shall be used for atail,” and he fastened it firmly to the back end of the sofa body.

Tip took the pepper-box from his pocket.

“The Thing looks very big,” said he, anxiously; “and I am notsure there is enough powder left to bring all of it to life. But I’llmake it go as far as possible.”

“Put most on the wings,” said Nick Chopper; “for they must bemade as strong as possible.”

“And don’t forget the head!” exclaimed the Woggle-Bug.

“Or the tail!” added Jack Pumpkinhead.

“Do be quiet,” said Tip, nervously; “you must give me achance to work the magic charm in the proper manner.”

Very carefully he began sprinkling the Thing with the precious powder. Each ofthe four wings was first lightly covered with a layer, then the sofas weresprinkled, and the broom given a slight coating.

“The head! The head! Don’t, I beg of you, forget the head!”cried the Woggle-Bug, excitedly.

“There’s only a little of the powder left,” announced Tip,looking within the box. “And it seems to me it is more important to bringthe legs of the sofas to life than the head.”

“Not so,” decided the Scarecrow. “Every thing must have ahead to direct it; and since this creature is to fly, and not walk, it isreally unimportant whether its legs are alive or not.”

So Tip abided by this decision and sprinkled the Gump’s head with theremainder of the powder.

“Now” said he, “keep silence while I work the, charm!”

Having heard old Mombi pronounce the magic words, and having also succeeded inbringing the Saw-Horse to life, Tip did not hesitate an instant in speaking thethree cabalistic words, each accompanied by the peculiar gesture of the hands.

It was a grave and impressive ceremony.

As he finished the incantation the Thing shuddered throughout its huge bulk,the Gump gave the screeching cry that is familiar to those animals, and thenthe four wings began flopping furiously.

Tip managed to grasp a chimney, else he would have been blown off the roof bythe terrible breeze raised by the wings. The Scarecrow, being light in weight,was caught up bodily and borne through the air until Tip luckily seized him byone leg and held him fast. The Woggle-Bug lay flat upon the roof and so escapedharm, and the Tin Woodman, whose weight of tin anchored him firmly, threw botharms around Jack Pumpkinhead and managed to save him. The Saw-Horse toppledover upon his back and lay with his legs waving helplessly above him.

And now, while all were struggling to recover themselves, the Thing rose slowlyfrom the roof and mounted into the air.

“Here! Come back!” cried Tip, in a frightened voice, as he clung tothe chimney with one hand and the Scarecrow with the other. “Come back atonce, I command you!”

It was now that the wisdom of the Scarecrow, in bringing the head of the Thingto life instead of the legs, was proved beyond a doubt. For the Gump, alreadyhigh in the air, turned its head at Tip’s command and gradually circledaround until it could view the roof of the palace.

“Come back!” shouted the boy, again.

And the Gump obeyed, slowly and gracefully waving its four wings in the airuntil the Thing had settled once more upon the roof and become still.

In the Jackdaw’s Nest

“This,” said the Gump, in a squeaky voice not at all proportionedto the size of its great body, “is the most novel experience I ever heardof. The last thing I remember distinctly is walking through the forest andhearing a loud noise. Something probably killed me then, and it certainly oughtto have been the end of me. Yet here I am, alive again, with four monstrouswings and a body which I venture to say would make any respectable animal orfowl weep with shame to own. What does it all mean? Am I a Gump, or am I ajuggernaut?” The creature, as it spoke, wiggled its chin whiskers in avery comical manner.

“You’re just a Thing,” answered Tip, “with aGump’s head on it. And we have made you and brought you to life so thatyou may carry us through the air wherever we wish to go.”

“Very good!” said the Thing. “As I am not a Gump, I cannothave a Gump’s pride or independent spirit. So I may as well become yourservant as anything else. My only satisfaction is that I do not seem to have avery strong constitution, and am not likely to live long in a state ofslavery.”

“Don’t say that, I beg of you!” cried the Tin Woodman, whoseexcellent heart was strongly affected by this sad speech. “Are you notfeeling well today?”

“Oh, as for that,” returned the Gump, “it is my first day ofexistence; so I cannot Judge whether I am feeling well or ill.” And itwaved its broom tail to and fro in a pensive manner.

“Come, come!” said the Scarecrow, kindly. “do try, to be morecheerful and take life as you find it. We shall be kind masters, and willstrive to render your existence as pleasant as possible. Are you willing tocarry us through the air wherever we wish to go?”

“Certainly,” answered the Gump. “I greatly prefer to navigatethe air. For should I travel on the earth and meet with one of my own species,my embarrassment would be something awful!”

“I can appreciate that,” said the Tin Woodman, sympathetically.

“And yet,” continued the Thing, “when I carefully look youover, my masters, none of you seems to be constructed much more artisticallythan I am.”

“Appearances are deceitful,” said the Woggle-Bug, earnestly.“I am both Highly Magnified and Thoroughly Educated.”

“Indeed!” murmured the Gump, indifferently.

“And my brains are considered remarkably rare specimens,” added theScarecrow, proudly.

“How strange!” remarked the Gump.

“Although I am of tin,” said the Woodman, “I own a heartaltogether the warmest and most admirable in the whole world.”

“I’m delighted to hear it,” replied the Gump, with a slightcough.

“My smile,” said Jack Pumpkinhead, “is worthy your bestattention. It is always the same.”

“Semper idem,” explained the Woggle-Bug, pompously; and theGump turned to stare at him.

“And I,” declared the Saw-Horse, filling in an awkward pause,“am only remarkable because I can’t help it.”

“I am proud, indeed, to meet with such exceptional masters,” saidthe Gump, in a careless tone. “If I could but secure so complete anintroduction to myself, I would be more than satisfied.”

“That will come in time,” remarked the Scarecrow. “To‘Know Thyself’ is considered quite an accomplishment, which it hastaken us, who are your elders, months to perfect. But now,” he added,turning to the others, “let us get aboard and start upon ourjourney.”

“Where shall we go?” asked Tip, as he clambered to a seat on thesofas and assisted the Pumpkinhead to follow him.

“In the South Country rules a very delightful Queen called Glinda theGood, who I am sure will gladly receive us,” said the Scarecrow, gettinginto the Thing clumsily. “Let us go to her and ask her advice.”

“That is cleverly thought of,” declared Nick Chopper, giving theWoggle-Bug a boost and then toppling the Saw-Horse into the rear end of thecushioned seats. “I know Glinda the Good, and believe she will prove afriend indeed.”

“Are we all ready?” asked the boy.

“Yes,” announced the Tin Woodman, seating himself beside theScarecrow.

“Then,” said Tip, addressing the Gump, “be kind enough to flywith us to the Southward; and do not go higher than to escape the houses andtrees, for it makes me dizzy to be up so far.”

“All right,” answered the Gump, briefly.

It flopped its four huge wings and rose slowly into the air; and then, whileour little band of adventurers clung to the backs and sides of the sofas forsupport, the Gump turned toward the South and soared swiftly and majesticallyaway.

“The scenic effect, from this altitude, is marvelous,” commentedthe educated Woggle-Bug, as they rode along.

“Never mind the scenery,” said the Scarecrow. “Hold on tight,or you may get a tumble. The Thing seems to rock badly.”

“It will be dark soon,” said Tip, observing that the sun was low onthe horizon. “Perhaps we should have waited until morning. I wonder ifthe Gump can fly in the night.”

“I’ve been wondering that myself,” returned the Gump quietly.“You see, this is a new experience to me. I used to have legs thatcarried me swiftly over the ground. But now my legs feel as if they wereasleep.”

“They are,” said Tip. “We didn’t bring ’em tolife.”

“You’re expected to fly,” explained the Scarecrow. “notto walk.”

“We can walk ourselves,” said the Woggle-Bug.

“I begin to understand what is required of me,” remarked the Gump;“so I will do my best to please you,” and he flew on for a time insilence.

Presently Jack Pumpkinhead became uneasy.

“I wonder if riding through the air is liable to spoil pumpkins,”he said.

“Not unless you carelessly drop your head over the side,” answeredthe Woggle-Bug. “In that event your head would no longer be a pumpkin,for it would become a squash.”

“Have I not asked you to restrain these unfeeling jokes?” demandedTip, looking at the Woggle-Bug with a severe expression.

“You have; and I’ve restrained a good many of them,” repliedthe insect. “But there are opportunities for so many excellent puns inour language that, to an educated person like myself, the temptation to expressthem is almost irresistible.”

“People with more or less education discovered those puns centuriesago,” said Tip.

“Are you sure?” asked the Woggle-Bug, with a startled look.

“Of course I am,” answered the boy. “An educated Woggle-Bugmay be a new thing; but a Woggle-Bug education is as old as the hills, judgingfrom the display you make of it.”

The insect seemed much impressed by this remark, and for a time maintained ameek silence.

The Scarecrow, in shifting his seat, saw upon the cushions the pepper-box whichTip had cast aside, and began to examine it.

“Throw it overboard,” said the boy; “it’s quite emptynow, and there’s no use keeping it.”

“Is it really empty?” asked the Scarecrow, looking curiously intothe box.

“Of course it is,” answered Tip. “I shook out every grain ofthe powder.”

“Then the box has two bottoms,” announced the Scarecrow, “forthe bottom on the inside is fully an inch away from the bottom on theoutside.”

“Let me see,” said the Tin Woodman, taking the box from his friend.“Yes,” he declared, after looking it over, “the thingcertainly has a false bottom. Now, I wonder what that is for?”

“Can’t you get it apart, and find out?” enquired Tip, nowquite interested in the mystery.

“Why, yes; the lower bottom unscrews,” said the Tin Woodman.“My fingers are rather stiff; please see if you can open it.”

He handed the pepper-box to Tip, who had no difficulty in unscrewing thebottom. And in the cavity below were three silver pills, with a carefullyfolded paper lying underneath them.

This paper the boy proceeded to unfold, taking care not to spill the pills, andfound several lines clearly written in red ink.

“Read it aloud,” said the Scarecrow. so Tip read, as follows:

“DR. NIKIDIK’S CELEBRATED WISHING PILLS.

“Directions for Use:Swallow one pill; count seventeen by twos;then make a Wish. The Wish will immediately be granted.

CAUTION: Keep in a Dry and Dark Place.”

“Why, this is a very valuable discovery!” cried the Scarecrow.

“It is, indeed,” replied Tip, gravely. “These pills may be ofgreat use to us. I wonder if old Mombi knew they were in the bottom of thepepper-box. I remember hearing her say that she got the Powder of Life fromthis same Nikidik.”

“He must be a powerful Sorcerer!” exclaimed the Tin Woodman;“and since the powder proved a success we ought to have confidence in thepills.”

“But how,” asked the Scarecrow, “can anyone count seventeenby twos? Seventeen is an odd number.”

“That is true,” replied Tip, greatly disappointed. “No onecan possibly count seventeen by twos.”

“Then the pills are of no use to us,” wailed the Pumpkinhead;“and this fact overwhelms me with grief. For I had intended wishing thatmy head would never spoil.”

“Nonsense!” said the Scarecrow, sharply. “If we could use thepills at all we would make far better wishes than that.”

“I do not see how anything could be better,” protested poor Jack.“If you were liable to spoil at any time you could understand myanxiety.”

“For my part,” said the Tin Woodman, “I sympathize with youin every respect. But since we cannot count seventeen by twos, sympathy is allyou are liable to get.”

By this time it had become quite dark, and the voyagers found above them acloudy sky, through which the rays of the moon could not penetrate.

The Gump flew steadily on, and for some reason the huge sofa-body rocked moreand more dizzily every hour.

The Woggle-Bug declared he was sea-sick; and Tip was also pale and somewhatdistressed. But the others clung to the backs of the sofas and did not seem tomind the motion as long as they were not tipped out.

Darker and darker grew the night, and on and on sped the Gump through the blackheavens. The travelers could not even see one another, and an oppressivesilence settled down upon them.

After a long time Tip, who had been thinking deeply, spoke.

“How are we to know when we come to the pallace of Glinda theGood?” he asked.

“It’s a long way to Glinda’s palace,” answered theWoodman; “I’ve traveled it.”

“But how are we to know how fast the Gump is flying?” persisted theboy. “We cannot see a single thing down on the earth, and before morningwe may be far beyond the place we want to reach.”

“That is all true enough,” the Scarecrow replied, a littleuneasily. “But I do not see how we can stop just now; for we might alightin a river, or on, the top of a steeple; and that would be a greatdisaster.”

So they permitted the Gump to fly on, with regular flops of its great wings,and waited patiently for morning.

Then Tip’s fears were proven to be well founded; for with the firststreaks of gray dawn they looked over the sides of the sofas and discoveredrolling plains dotted with queer villages, where the houses, instead of beingdome-shaped—as they all are in the Land of Oz—had slanting roofsthat rose to a peak in the center. Odd looking animals were also moving aboutupon the open plains, and the country was unfamiliar to both the Tin Woodmanand the Scarecrow, who had formerly visited Glinda the Good’s domain andknew it well.

“We are lost!” said the Scarecrow, dolefully. “The Gump musthave carried us entirely out of the Land of Oz and over the sandy deserts andinto the terrible outside world that Dorothy told us about.”

“We must get back,” exclaimed the Tin Woodman, earnestly. “wemust get back as soon as possible!”

“Turn around!” cried Tip to the Gump. “turn as quickly as youcan!”

“If I do I shall upset,” answered the Gump. “I’m not atall used to flying, and the best plan would be for me to alight in some place,and then I can turn around and take a fresh start.”

Just then, however, there seemed to be no stopping-place that would answertheir purpose. They flew over a village so big that the Woggle-Bug declared itwas a city, and then they came to a range of high mountains with many deepgorges and steep cliffs showing plainly.

“Now is our chance to stop,” said the boy, finding they were veryclose to the mountain tops. Then he turned to the Gump and commanded:“Stop at the first level place you see!”

“Very well,” answered the Gump, and settled down upon a table ofrock that stood between two cliffs.

But not being experienced in such matters, the Gump did not judge his speedcorrectly; and instead of coming to a stop upon the flat rock he missed it byhalf the width of his body, breaking off both his right wings against the sharpedge of the rock and then tumbling over and over down the cliff.

Our friends held on to the sofas as long as they could, but when the Gumpcaught on a projecting rock the Thing stopped suddenly—bottom sideup—and all were immediately dumped out.

By good fortune they fell only a few feet; for underneath them was a monsternest, built by a colony of Jackdaws in a hollow ledge of rock; so none ofthem—not even the Pumpkinhead—was injured by the fall. For Jackfound his precious head resting on the soft breast of the Scarecrow, which madean excellent cushion; and Tip fell on a mass of leaves and papers, which savedhim from injury. The Woggle-Bug had bumped his round head against theSaw-Horse, but without causing him more than a moment’s inconvenience.

The Tin Woodman was at first much alarmed; but finding he had escaped withouteven a scratch upon his beautiful nickle-plate he at once regained hisaccustomed cheerfulness and turned to address his comrades.

“Our Journey had ended rather suddenly,” said he; “and wecannot justly blame our friend the Gump for our accident, because he did thebest he could under the circumstances. But how we are ever to escape from thisnest I must leave to someone with better brains than I possess.”

Here he gazed at the Scarecrow; who crawled to the edge of the nest and lookedover. Below them was a sheer precipice several hundred feet in depth. Abovethem was a smooth cliff unbroken save by the point of rock where the wreckedbody of the Gump still hung suspended from the end of one of the sofas. Therereally seemed to be no means of escape, and as they realized their helplessplight the little band of adventurers gave way to their bewilderment.

“This is a worse prison than the palace,” sadly remarked theWoggle-Bug.

“I wish we had stayed there,” moaned Jack.

“I’m afraid the mountain air isn’t good for pumpkins.”

“It won’t be when the Jackdaws come back,” growled theSaw-Horse, which lay waving its legs in a vain endeavor to get upon its feetagain. “Jackdaws are especially fond of pumpkins.”

“Do you think the birds will come here?” asked Jack, muchdistressed.

“Of course they will,” said Tip; “for this is their nest. Andthere must be hundreds of them,” he continued, “for see what a lotof things they have brought here!”

Indeed, the nest was half filled with a most curious collection of smallarticles for which the birds could have no use, but which the thieving Jackdawshad stolen during many years from the homes of men. And as the nest was safelyhidden where no human being could reach it, this lost property would never berecovered.

The Woggle-Bug, searching among the rubbish—for the Jackdaws stoleuseless things as well as valuable ones—turned up with his foot abeautiful diamond necklace. This was so greatly admired by the Tin Woodman thatthe Woggle-Bug presented it to him with a graceful speech, after which theWoodman hung it around his neck with much pride, rejoicing exceedingly when thebig diamonds glittered in the sun’s rays.

But now they heard a great jabbering and flopping of wings, and as the soundgrew nearer to them Tip exclaimed:

“The Jackdaws are coming! And if they find us here they will surely killus in their anger.”

“I was afraid of this!” moaned the Pumpkinhead. “My time hascome!”

“And mine, also!” said the Woggle-Bug; “for Jackdaws are thegreatest enemies of my race.”

The others were not at all afraid; but the Scarecrow at once decided to savethose of the party who were liable to be injured by the angry birds. So hecommanded Tip to take off Jack’s head and lie down with it in the bottomof the nest, and when this was done he ordered the Woggle-Bug to lie besideTip. Nick Chopper, who knew from past experience Just what to do, then took theScarecrow to pieces (all except his head) and scattered the straw over Tip andthe Woggle-Bug, completely covering their bodies.

Hardly had this been accomplished when the flock of Jackdaws reached them.Perceiving the intruders in their nest the birds flew down upon them withscreams of rage.

Dr. Nikidik’s Famous Wishing Pills

The Tin Woodman was usually a peaceful man, but when occasion required he couldfight as fiercely as a Roman gladiator. So, when the Jackdaws nearly knockedhim down in their rush of wings, and their sharp beaks and claws threatened todamage his brilliant plating, the Woodman picked up his axe and made it whirlswiftly around his head.

But although many were beaten off in this way, the birds were so numerous andso brave that they continued the attack as furiously as before. Some of thempecked at the eyes of the Gump, which hung over the nest in a helplesscondition; but the Gump’s eyes were of glass and could not be injured.Others of the Jackdaws rushed at the Saw-Horse; but that animal, being stillupon his back, kicked out so viciously with his wooden legs that he beat off asmany assailants as did the Woodman’s axe.

Finding themselves thus opposed, the birds fell upon the Scarecrow’sstraw, which lay at the center of the nest, covering Tip and the Woggle-Bug andJack’s pumpkin head, and began tearing it away and flying off with it,only to let it drop, straw by straw into the great gulf beneath.

The Scarecrow’s head, noting with dismay this wanton destruction of hisinterior, cried to the Tin Woodman to save him; and that good friend respondedwith renewed energy. His axe fairly flashed among the Jackdaws, and fortunatelythe Gump began wildly waving the two wings remaining on the left side of itsbody. The flutter of these great wings filled the Jackdaws with terror, andwhen the Gump by its exertions freed itself from the peg of rock on which ithung, and sank flopping into the nest, the alarm of the birds knew no boundsand they fled screaming over the mountains.

When the last foe had disappeared, Tip crawled from under the sofas andassisted the Woggle-Bug to follow him.

“We are saved!” shouted the boy, delightedly.

“We are, indeed!” responded the Educated Insect, fairly hugging thestiff head of the Gump in his joy. “and we owe it all to the flopping ofthe Thing, and the good axe of the Woodman!”

“If I am saved, get me out of here!” called Jack; whose head wasstill beneath the sofas; and Tip managed to roll the pumpkin out and place itupon its neck again. He also set the Saw-Horse upright, and said to it:

“We owe you many thanks for the gallant fight you made.”

“I really think we have escaped very nicely,” remarked the TinWoodman, in a tone of pride.

“Not so!” exclaimed a hollow voice.

At this they all turned in surprise to look at the Scarecrow’s head,which lay at the back of the nest.

“I am completely ruined!” declared the Scarecrow, as he noted theirastonishment. “For where is the straw that stuffs my body?”

The awful question startled them all. They gazed around the nest with horror,for not a vestige of straw remained. The Jackdaws had stolen it to the lastwisp and flung it all into the chasm that yawned for hundreds of feet beneaththe nest.

“My poor, poor friend!” said the Tin Woodman, taking up theScarecrow’s head and caressing it tenderly; “whoever could imagineyou would come to this untimely end?”

“I did it to save my friends,” returned the head; “and I amglad that I perished in so noble and unselfish a manner.”

“But why are you all so despondent?” inquired the Woggle-Bug.“The Scarecrow’s clothing is still safe.”

“Yes,” answered the Tin Woodman; “but our friend’sclothes are useless without stuffing.”

“Why not stuff him with money?” asked Tip.

“Money!” they all cried, in an amazed chorus.

“To be sure,” said the boy. “In the bottom of the nest arethousands of dollar bills—and two-dollar bills—and five-dollarbills—and tens, and twenties, and fifties. There are enough of them tostuff a dozen Scarecrows. Why not use the money?”

The Tin Woodman began to turn over the rubbish with the handle of his axe; and,sure enough, what they had first thought only worthless papers were found to beall bills of various denominations, which the mischievous Jackdaws had foryears been engaged in stealing from the villages and cities they visited.

There was an immense fortune lying in that inaccessible nest; and Tip’ssuggestion was, with the Scarecrow’s consent, quickly acted upon.

They selected all the newest and cleanest bills and assorted them into variouspiles. The Scarecrow’s left leg and boot were stuffed with five-dollarbills; his right leg was stuffed with ten-dollar bills, and his body so closelyfilled with fifties, one-hundreds and one-thousands that he could scarcelybutton his jacket with comfort.

“You are now” said the Woggle-Bug, impressively, when the task hadbeen completed, “the most valuable member of our party; and as you areamong faithful friends there is little danger of your being spent.”

“Thank you,” returned the Scarecrow, gratefully. “I feel likea new man; and although at first glance I might be mistaken for a SafetyDeposit Vault, I beg you to remember that my Brains are still composed of thesame old material. And these are the possessions that have always made me aperson to be depended upon in an emergency.”

“Well, the emergency is here,” observed Tip; “and unless yourbrains help us out of it we shall be compelled to pass the remainder of ourlives in this nest.”

“How about these wishing pills?” enquired the Scarecrow, taking thebox from his jacket pocket. “Can’t we use them to escape?”

“Not unless we can count seventeen by twos,” answered the TinWoodman. “But our friend the Woggle-Bug claims to be highly educated, sohe ought easily to figure out how that can be done.”

“It isn’t a question of education,” returned the Insect;“it’s merely a question of mathematics. I’ve seen theprofessor work lots of sums on the blackboard, and he claimed anything could bedone with x’s and y’s and a’s, and such things, by mixingthem up with plenty of plusses and minuses and equals, and so forth. But henever said anything, so far as I can remember, about counting up to the oddnumber of seventeen by the even numbers of twos.”

“Stop! stop!” cried the Pumpkinhead. “You’re making myhead ache.”

“And mine,” added the Scarecrow. “Your mathematics seem to mevery like a bottle of mixed pickles the more you fish for what you want theless chance you have of getting it. I am certain that if the thing can beaccomplished at all, it is in a very simple manner.”

“Yes,” said Tip. “old Mombi couldn’t use x’s andminuses, for she never went to school.”

“Why not start counting at a half of one?” asked the Saw-Horse,abruptly. “Then anyone can count up to seventeen by twos veryeasily.”

They looked at each other in surprise, for the Saw-Horse was considered themost stupid of the entire party.

“You make me quite ashamed of myself,” said the Scarecrow, bowinglow to the Saw-Horse.

“Nevertheless, the creature is right,” declared the Woggle-Bug;“for twice one-half is one, and if you get to one it is easy to countfrom one up to seventeen by twos.”

“I wonder I didn’t think of that myself,” said thePumpkinhead.

“I don’t,” returned the Scarecrow. “You’re nowiser than the rest of us, are you? But let us make a wish at once. Who willswallow the first pill?”

“Suppose you do it,” suggested Tip.

“I can’t,” said the Scarecrow.

“Why not? You’ve a mouth, haven’t you?” asked the boy.

“Yes; but my mouth is painted on, and there’s no swallow connectedwith it,” answered the Scarecrow. “In fact,” he continued,looking from one to another critically, “I believe the boy and theWoggle-Bug are the only ones in our party that are able to swallow.”

Observing the truth of this remark, Tip said:

“Then I will undertake to make the first wish. Give me one of the SilverPills.”

This the Scarecrow tried to do; but his padded gloves were too clumsy to clutchso small an object, and he held the box toward the boy while Tip selected oneof the pills and swallowed it.

“Count!” cried the Scarecrow.

“One-half, one, three, five, seven, nine, eleven,” counted Tip.“thirteen, fifteen, seventeen.”

“Now wish!” said the Tin Woodman anxiously:

But Just then the boy began to suffer such fearful pains that he becamealarmed.

“The pill has poisoned me!” he gasped; “O—h! O-o-o-o-o!Ouch! Murder! Fire! O-o-h!” and here he rolled upon the bottom of thenest in such contortions that he frightened them all.

“What can we do for you. Speak, I beg!” entreated the Tin Woodman,tears of sympathy running down his nickel cheeks.

“I—I don’t know!” answered Tip. “O—h! Iwish I’d never swallowed that pill!”

Then at once the pain stopped, and the boy rose to his feet again and found theScarecrow looking with amazement at the end of the pepper-box.

“What’s happened?” asked the boy, a little ashamed of hisrecent exhibition.

“Why, the three pills are in the box again!” said the Scarecrow.

“Of course they are,” the Woggle-Bug declared. “Didn’tTip wish that he’d never swallowed one of them? Well, the wish came true,and he didn’tswallow one of them. So of course they are all threein the box.”

“That may be; but the pill gave me a dreadful pain, just the same,”said the boy.

“Impossible!” declared the Woggle-Bug. “If you have neverswallowed it, the pill can not have given you a pain. And as your wish, beinggranted, proves you did not swallow the pill, it is also plain that yousuffered no pain.”

“Then it was a splendid imitation of a pain,” retorted Tip,angrily. “Suppose you try the next pill yourself. We’ve wasted onewish already.”

“Oh, no, we haven’t!” protested the Scarecrow. “Hereare still three pills in the box, and each pill is good for a wish.”

“Now you’re making myhead ache,” said Tip. “Ican’t understand the thing at all. But I won’t take another pill, Ipromise you!” and with this remark he retired sulkily to the back of thenest.

“Well,” said the Woggle-Bug, “it remains for me to save us inmy most Highly Magnified and Thoroughly Educated manner; for I seem to be theonly one able and willing to make a wish. Let me have one of the pills.”

He swallowed it without hesitation, and they all stood admiring his couragewhile the Insect counted seventeen by twos in the same way that Tip had done.And for some reason—perhaps because Woggle-Bugs have stronger stomachsthan boys—the silver pellet caused it no pain whatever.

“I wish the Gump’s broken wings mended, and as good as new!”said the Woggle-Bug, in a slow; impressive voice.

All turned to look at the Thing, and so quickly had the wish been granted thatthe Gump lay before them in perfect repair, and as well able to fly through theair as when it had first been brought to life on the roof of the palace.

The Scarecrow Appeals to Glinda the Good

“Hooray!” shouted the Scarecrow, gaily. “We can now leavethis miserable Jackdaws’ nest whenever we please.”

“But it is nearly dark,” said the Tin Woodman; “and unless wewait until morning to make our flight we may get into more trouble. Idon’t like these night trips, for one never knows what willhappen.”

So it was decided to wait until daylight, and the adventurers amused themselvesin the twilight by searching the Jackdaws’ nest for treasures.

The Woggle-Bug found two handsome bracelets of wrought gold, which fitted hisslender arms very well. The Scarecrow took a fancy for rings, of which therewere many in the nest. Before long he had fitted a ring to each finger of hispadded gloves, and not being content with that display he added one more toeach thumb. As he carefully chose those rings set with sparkling stones, suchas rubies, amethysts and sapphires, the Scarecrow’s hands now presented amost brilliant appearance.

“This nest would be a picnic for Queen Jinjur,” said he, musingly.“for as nearly as I can make out she and her girls conquered me merely torob my city of its emeralds.”

The Tin Woodman was content with his diamond necklace and refused to accept anyadditional decorations; but Tip secured a fine gold watch, which was attachedto a heavy fob, and placed it in his pocket with much pride. He also pinnedseveral jeweled brooches to Jack Pumpkinhead’s red waistcoat, andattached a lorgnette, by means of a fine chain, to the neck of the Saw-Horse.

“It’s very pretty,” said the creature, regarding thelorgnette approvingly; “but what is it for?”

None of them could answer that question, however; so the Saw-Horse decided itwas some rare decoration and became very fond of it.

That none of the party might be slighted, they ended by placing several largeseal rings upon the points of the Gump’s antlers, although that oddpersonage seemed by no means gratified by the attention.

Darkness soon fell upon them, and Tip and the Woggle-Bug went to sleep whilethe others sat down to wait patiently for the day.

Next morning they had cause to congratulate themselves upon the usefulcondition of the Gump; for with daylight a great flock of Jackdaws approachedto engage in one more battle for the possession of the nest.

But our adventurers did not wait for the assault. They tumbled into thecushioned seats of the sofas as quickly as possible, and Tip gave the word tothe Gump to start.

At once it rose into the air, the great wings flopping strongly and withregular motions, and in a few moments they were so far from the nest that thechattering Jackdaws took possession without any attempt at pursuit.

The Thing flew due North, going in the same direction from whence it had come.At least, that was the Scarecrow’s opinion, and the others agreed thatthe Scarecrow was the best judge of direction. After passing over severalcities and villages the Gump carried them high above a broad plain where housesbecame more and more scattered until they disappeared altogether. Next came thewide, sandy desert separating the rest of the world from the Land of Oz, andbefore noon they saw the dome-shaped houses that proved they were once morewithin the borders of their native land.

“But the houses and fences are blue,” said the Tin Woodman,“and that indicates we are in the land of the Munchkins, and therefore along distance from Glinda the Good.”

“What shall we do?” asked the boy, turning to their guide.

“I don’t know” replied the Scarecrow, frankly. “If wewere at the Emerald City we could then move directly southward, and so reachour destination. But we dare not go to the Emerald City, and the Gump isprobably carrying us further in the wrong direction with every flop of itswings.”

“Then the Woggle-Bug must swallow another pill,” said Tip,decidedly, “and wish us headed in the right direction.”

“Very well,” returned the Highly Magnified one; “I’mwilling.”

But when the Scarecrow searched in his pocket for the pepper-box containing thetwo silver Wishing Pills, it was not to be found. Filled with anxiety, thevoyagers hunted throughout every inch of the Thing for the precious box; but ithad disappeared entirely.

And still the Gump flew onward, carrying them they knew not where.

“I must have left the pepper-box in the Jackdaws’ nest,” saidthe Scarecrow, at length.

“It is a great misfortune,” the Tin Woodman declared. “But weare no worse off than before we discovered the Wishing Pills.”

“We are better off,” replied Tip. “for the one pill we usedhas enabled us to escape from that horrible nest.”

“Yet the loss of the other two is serious, and I deserve a good scoldingfor my carelessness,” the Scarecrow rejoined, penitently. “For insuch an unusual party as this accidents are liable to happen any moment, andeven now we may be approaching a new danger.”

No one dared contradict this, and a dismal silence ensued.

The Gump flew steadily on.

Suddenly Tip uttered an exclamation of surprise. “We must have reachedthe South Country,” he cried, “for below us everything isred!”

Immediately they all leaned over the backs of the sofas to look—allexcept Jack, who was too careful of his pumpkin head to risk its slipping offhis neck. Sure enough; the red houses and fences and trees indicated they werewithin the domain of Glinda the Good; and presently, as they glided rapidly on,the Tin Woodman recognized the roads and buildings they passed, and alteredslightly the flight of the Gump so that they might reach the palace of thecelebrated Sorceress.

“Good!” cried the Scarecrow, delightedly. “We do not need thelost Wishing Pills now, for we have arrived at our destination.”

Gradually the Thing sank lower and nearer to the ground until at length it cameto rest within the beautiful gardens of Glinda, settling upon a velvety greenlawn close by a fountain which sent sprays of flashing gems, instead of water,high into the air, whence they fell with a soft, tinkling sound into the carvedmarble basin placed to receive them.

Everything was very gorgeous in Glinda’s gardens, and while our voyagersgazed about with admiring eyes a company of soldiers silently appeared andsurrounded them. But these soldiers of the great Sorceress were entirelydifferent from those of Jinjur’s Army of Revolt, although they werelikewise girls. For Glinda’s soldiers wore neat uniforms and bore swordsand spears; and they marched with a skill and precision that proved them welltrained in the arts of war.

The Captain commanding this troop—which was Glinda’s private BodyGuard—recognized the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman at once, and greetedthem with respectful salutations.

“Good day!” said the Scarecrow, gallantly removing his hat, whilethe Woodman gave a soldierly salute; “we have come to request an audiencewith your fair Ruler.”

“Glinda is now within her palace, awaiting you,” returned theCaptain; “for she saw you coming long before you arrived.”

“That is strange!” said Tip, wondering.

“Not at all,” answered the Scarecrow, “for Glinda the Good isa mighty Sorceress, and nothing that goes on in the Land of Oz escapes hernotice. I suppose she knows why we came as well as we do ourselves.”

“Then what was the use of our coming?” asked Jack, stupidly.

“To prove you are a Pumpkinhead!” retorted the Scarecrow.“But, if the Sorceress expects us, we must not keep her waiting.”

So they all clambered out of the sofas and followed the Captain toward thepalace—even the Saw-Horse taking his place in the queer procession.

Upon her throne of finely wrought gold sat Glinda, and she could scarcelyrepress a smile as her peculiar visitors entered and bowed before her. Both theScarecrow and the Tin Woodman she knew and liked; but the awkward Pumpkinheadand Highly Magnified Woggle-Bug were creatures she had never seen before, andthey seemed even more curious than the others. As for the Saw-Horse, he lookedto be nothing more than an animated chunk of wood; and he bowed so stiffly thathis head bumped against the floor, causing a ripple of laughter among thesoldiers, in which Glinda frankly joined.

“I beg to announce to your glorious highness,” began the Scarecrow,in a solemn voice, “that my Emerald City has been overrun by a crowd ofimpudent girls with knitting-needles, who have enslaved all the men, robbed thestreets and public buildings of all their emerald jewels, and usurped mythrone.”

“I know it,” said Glinda.

“They also threatened to destroy me, as well as all the good friends andallies you see before you,” continued the Scarecrow. “and had wenot managed to escape their clutches our days would long since haveended.”

“I know it,” repeated Glinda.

“Therefore I have come to beg your assistance,” resumed theScarecrow, “for I believe you are always glad to succor the unfortunateand oppressed.”

“That is true,” replied the Sorceress, slowly. “But theEmerald City is now ruled by General Jinjur, who has caused herself to beproclaimed Queen. What right have I to oppose her?”

“Why, she stole the throne from me,” said the Scarecrow.

“And how came you to possess the throne?” asked Glinda.

“I got it from the Wizard of Oz, and by the choice of the people,”returned the Scarecrow, uneasy at such questioning.

“And where did the Wizard get it?” she continued gravely.

“I am told he took it from Pastoria, the former King,” said theScarecrow, becoming confused under the intent look of the Sorceress.

“Then,” declared Glinda, “the throne of the Emerald Citybelongs neither to you nor to Jinjur, but to this Pastoria from whom the Wizardusurped it.”

“That is true,” acknowledged the Scarecrow, humbly; “butPastoria is now dead and gone, and some one must rule in his place.”

“Pastoria had a daughter, who is the rightful heir to the throne of theEmerald City. Did you know that?” questioned the Sorceress.

“No,” replied the Scarecrow. “But if the girl still lives Iwill not stand in her way. It will satisfy me as well to have Jinjur turnedout, as an impostor, as to regain the throne myself. In fact, it isn’tmuch fun to be King, especially if one has good brains. I have known for sometime that I am fitted to occupy a far more exalted position. But where is thegirl who owns the throne, and what is her name?”

“Her name is Ozma,” answered Glinda. “But where she is I havetried in vain to discover. For the Wizard of Oz, when he stole the throne fromOzma’s father, hid the girl in some secret place; and by means of amagical trick with which I am not familiar he also managed to prevent her beingdiscovered—even by so experienced a Sorceress as myself.”

“That is strange,” interrupted the Woggle-Bug, pompously. “Ihave been informed that the Wonderful Wizard of Oz was nothing more than ahumbug!”

“Nonsense!” exclaimed the Scarecrow, much provoked by this speech.“Didn’t he give me a wonderful set of brains?”

“There’s no humbug about my heart,” announced the TinWoodman, glaring indignantly at the Woggle-Bug.

“Perhaps I was misinformed,” stammered the Insect, shrinking back;“I never knew the Wizard personally.”

“Well, we did,” retorted the Scarecrow, “and he was a verygreat Wizard, I assure you. It is true he was guilty of some slight impostures,but unless he was a great Wizard how—let me ask—could he havehidden this girl Ozma so securely that no one can find her?”

“I—I give it up!” replied the Woggle-Bug, meekly.

“That is the most sensible speech you’ve made,” said the TinWoodman.

“I must really make another effort to discover where this girl ishidden,” resumed the Sorceress, thoughtfully. “I have in my librarya book in which is inscribed every action of the Wizard while he was in ourland of Oz—or, at least, every action that could be observed by my spies.This book I will read carefully tonight, and try to single out the acts thatmay guide us in discovering the lost Ozma. In the meantime, pray amuseyourselves in my palace and command my servants as if they were your own. Iwill grant you another audience tomorrow.”

With this gracious speech Glinda dismissed the adventurers, and they wanderedaway through the beautiful gardens, where they passed several hours enjoyingall the delightful things with which the Queen of the Southland had surroundedher royal palace.

On the following morning they again appeared before Glinda, who said to them:

“I have searched carefully through the records of the Wizard’sactions, and among them I can find but three that appear to have beensuspicious. He ate beans with a knife, made three secret visits to old Mombi,and limped slightly on his left foot.”

“Ah! that last is certainly suspicious!” exclaimed the Pumpkinhead.

“Not necessarily,” said the Scarecrow. “he may, have hadcorns. Now, it seems to me his eating beans with a knife is moresuspicious.”

“Perhaps it is a polite custom in Omaha, from which great country theWizard originally came,” suggested the Tin Woodman.

“It may be,” admitted the Scarecrow.

“But why,” asked Glinda, “did he make three secret visits toold Mombi?”

“Ah! Why, indeed!” echoed the Woggle-Bug, impressively.

“We know that the Wizard taught the old woman many of his tricks ofmagic,” continued Glinda; “and this he would not have done had shenot assisted him in some way. So we may suspect with good reason that Mombiaided him to hide the girl Ozma, who was the real heir to the throne of theEmerald City, and a constant danger to the usurper. For, if the people knewthat she lived, they would quickly make her their Queen and restore her to herrightful position.”

“An able argument!” cried the Scarecrow. “I have no doubtthat Mombi was mixed up in this wicked business. But how does that knowledgehelp us?”

“We must find Mombi,” replied Glinda, “and force her to tellwhere the girl is hidden.”

“Mombi is now with Queen Jinjur, in the Emerald, City” said Tip.“It was she who threw so many obstacles in our pathway, and made Jinjurthreaten to destroy my friends and give me back into the old witch’spower.”

“Then,” decided Glinda, “I will march with my army to theEmerald City, and take Mombi prisoner. After that we can, perhaps, force her totell the truth about Ozma.”

“She is a terrible old woman!” remarked Tip, with a shudder at thethought of Mombi’s black kettle; “and obstinate, too.”

“I am quite obstinate myself,” returned the Sorceress, with a sweetsmile. “so I do not fear Mombi in the least. Today I will make allnecessary preparations, and we will march upon the Emerald City at daybreaktomorrow.”

The Tin-Woodman Plucks a Rose

The Army of Glinda the Good looked very grand and imposing when it assembled atdaybreak before the palace gates. The uniforms of the girl soldiers were prettyand of gay colors, and their silver-tipped spears were bright and glistening,the long shafts being inlaid with mother-of-pearl. All the officers wore sharp,gleaming swords, and shields edged with peacock-feathers; and it really seemedthat no foe could by any possibility defeat such a brilliant army.

The Sorceress rode in a beautiful palanquin which was like the body of a coach,having doors and windows with silken curtains; but instead of wheels, which acoach has, the palanquin rested upon two long, horizontal bars, which wereborne upon the shoulders of twelve servants.

The Scarecrow and his comrades decided to ride in the Gump, in order to keep upwith the swift march of the army; so, as soon as Glinda had started and hersoldiers had marched away to the inspiring strains of music played by the royalband, our friends climbed into the sofas and followed. The Gump flew alongslowly at a point directly over the palanquin in which rode the Sorceress.

“Be careful,” said the Tin Woodman to the Scarecrow, who wasleaning far over the side to look at the army below. “You mightfall.”

“It wouldn’t matter,” remarked the educated Woggle-Bug.“he can’t get broke so long as he is stuffed with money.”

“Didn’t I ask you” began Tip, in a reproachful voice.

“You did!” said the Woggle-Bug, promptly. “And I beg yourpardon. I will really try to restrain myself.”

“You’d better,” declared the boy. “That is, if you wishto travel in our company.”

“Ah! I couldn’t bear to part with you now,” murmured theInsect, feelingly; so Tip let the subject drop.

The army moved steadily on, but night had fallen before they came to the wallsof the Emerald City. By the dim light of the new moon, however, Glinda’sforces silently surrounded the city and pitched their tents of scarlet silkupon the greensward. The tent of the Sorceress was larger than the others, andwas composed of pure white silk, with scarlet banners flying above it. A tentwas also pitched for the Scarecrow’s party; and when these preparationshad been made, with military precision and quickness, the army retired to rest.

Great was the amazement of Queen Jinjur next morning when her soldiers camerunning to inform her of the vast army surrounding them. She at once climbed toa high tower of the royal palace and saw banners waving in every direction andthe great white tent of Glinda standing directly before the gates.

“We are surely lost!” cried Jinjur, in despair; “for how canour knitting-needles avail against the long spears and terrible swords of ourfoes?”

“The best thing we can do,” said one of the girls, “is tosurrender as quickly as possible, before we get hurt.”

“Not so,” returned Jinjur, more bravely. “The enemy is stilloutside the walls, so we must try to gain time by engaging them in parley. Goyou with a flag of truce to Glinda and ask her why she has dared to invade mydominions, and what are her demands.”

So the girl passed through the gates, bearing a white flag to show she was on amission of peace, and came to Glinda’s tent. “Tell yourQueen,” said the Sorceress to the girl, “that she must deliver upto me old Mombi, to be my prisoner. If this is done I will not molest herfarther.”

Now when this message was delivered to the Queen it filled her with dismay, forMombi was her chief counsellor, and Jinjur was terribly afraid of the old hag.But she sent for Mombi, and told her what Glinda had said.

“I see trouble ahead for all of us,” muttered the old witch, afterglancing into a magic mirror she carried in her pocket. “But we may evenyet escape by deceiving this sorceress, clever as she thinks herself.”

“Don’t you think it will be safer for me to deliver you into herhands?” asked Jinjur, nervously.

“If you do, it will cost you the throne of the Emerald City!”answered the witch, positively. “But if you will let me have my own way,I can save us both very easily.”

“Then do as you please,” replied Jinjur, “for it is soaristocratic to be a Queen that I do not wish to be obliged to return homeagain, to make beds and wash dishes for my mother.”

So Mombi called Jellia Jamb to her, and performed a certain magical rite withwhich she was familiar. As a result of the enchantment Jellia took on the formand features of Mombi, while the old witch grew to resemble the girl so closelythat it seemed impossible anyone could guess the deception.

“Now,” said old Mombi to the Queen, “let your soldiersdeliver up this girl to Glinda. She will think she has the real Mombi in herpower, and so will return immediately to her own country in the South.”

Therefore Jellia, hobbling along like an aged woman, was led from the citygates and taken before Glinda.

“Here is the person you demanded,” said one of the guards,“and our Queen now begs you will go away, as you promised, and leave usin peace.”

“That I will surely do,” replied Glinda, much pleased; “ifthis is really the person she seems to be.”

“It is certainly old Mombi,” said the guard, who believed she wasspeaking the truth; and then Jinjur’s soldiers returned within thecity’s gates.

The Sorceress quickly summoned the Scarecrow and his friends to her tent, andbegan to question the supposed Mombi about the lost girl Ozma. But Jellia knewnothing at all of this affair, and presently she grew so nervous under thequestioning that she gave way and began to weep, to Glinda’s greatastonishment.

“Here is some foolish trickery!” said the Sorceress, her eyesflashing with anger. “This is not Mombi at all, but some other person whohas been made to resemble her! Tell me,” she demanded, turning to thetrembling girl, “what is your name?”

This Jellia dared not tell, having been threatened with death by the witch ifshe confessed the fraud. But Glinda, sweet and fair though she was, understoodmagic better than any other person in the Land of Oz. So, by uttering a fewpotent words and making a peculiar gesture, she quickly transformed the girlinto her proper shape, while at the same time old Mombi, far away inJinjur’s palace, suddenly resumed her own crooked form and evil features.

“Why, it’s Jellia Jamb!” cried the Scarecrow, recognizing inthe girl one of his old friends.

“It’s our interpreter!” said the Pumpkinhead, smilingpleasantly.

Then Jellia was forced to tell of the trick Mombi had played and she alsobegged Glinda’s protection, which the Sorceress readily granted. ButGlinda was now really angry, and sent word to Jinjur that the fraud wasdiscovered and she must deliver up the real Mombi or suffer terribleconsequences. Jinjur was prepared for this message, for the witch wellunderstood, when her natural form was thrust upon her, that Glinda haddiscovered her trickery. But the wicked old creature had already thought up anew deception, and had made Jinjur promise to carry it out. So the Queen saidto Glinda’s messenger:

“Tell your mistress that I cannot find Mombi anywhere, but that Glinda iswelcome to enter the city and search herself for the old woman. She may alsobring her friends with her, if she likes; but if she does not find Mombi bysundown, the Sorceress must promise to go away peaceably and bother us nomore.”

Glinda agreed to these terms, well knowing that Mombi was somewhere within thecity walls. So Jinjur caused the gates to be thrown open, and Glinda marched inat the head of a company of soldiers, followed by the Scarecrow and the TinWoodman, while Jack Pumpkinhead rode astride the Saw-Horse, and the Educated,Highly Magnified Woggle-Bug sauntered behind in a dignified manner. Tip walkedby the side of the Sorceress, for Glinda had conceived a great liking for theboy.

Of course old Mombi had no intention of being found by Glinda; so, while herenemies were marching up the street, the witch transformed herself into a redrose growing upon a bush in the garden of the palace. It was a clever idea, anda trick Glinda did not suspect; so several precious hours were spent in a vainsearch for Mombi.

As sundown approached the Sorceress realized she had been defeated by thesuperior cunning of the aged witch; so she gave the command to her people tomarch out of the city and back to their tents.

The Scarecrow and his comrades happened to be searching in the garden of thepalace just then, and they turned with disappointment to obey Glinda’scommand. But before they left the garden the Tin Woodman, who was fond offlowers, chanced to espy a big red rose growing upon a bush; so he plucked theflower and fastened it securely in the tin buttonhole of his tin bosom.

As he did this he fancied he heard a low moan proceed from the rose; but hepaid no attention to the sound, and Mombi was thus carried out of the city andinto Glinda’s camp without anyone having a suspicion that they hadsucceeded in their quest.

The Transformation of Old Mombi

The Witch was at first frightened at finding herself captured by the enemy; butsoon she decided that she was exactly as safe in the Tin Woodman’sbutton-hole as growing upon the bush. For no one knew the rose and Mombi to beone, and now that she was without the gates of the City her chances of escapingaltogether from Glinda were much improved.

“But there is no hurry,” thought Mombi. “I will wait awhileand enjoy the humiliation of this Sorceress when she finds I have outwittedher.” So throughout the night the rose lay quietly on the Woodman’sbosom, and in the morning, when Glinda summoned our friends to a consultation,Nick Chopper carried his pretty flower with him to the white silk tent.

“For some reason,” said Glinda, “we have failed to find thiscunning old Mombi; so I fear our expedition will prove a failure. And for thatI am sorry, because without our assistance little Ozma will never be rescuedand restored to her rightful position as Queen of the Emerald City”

“Do not let us give up so easily,” said the Pumpkinhead. “Letus do something else.”

“Something else must really be done,” replied Glinda, with a smile.“yet I cannot understand how I have been defeated so easily by an oldWitch who knows far less of magic than I do myself.”

“While we are on the ground I believe it would be wise for us to conquerthe Emerald City for Princess Ozma, and find the girl afterward,” saidthe Scarecrow. “And while the girl remains hidden I will gladly rule inher place, for I understand the business of ruling much better than Jinjurdoes.”

“But I have promised not to molest Jinjur,” objected Glinda.

“Suppose you all return with me to my kingdom—or Empire,rather,” said the Tin Woodman, politely including the entire party in aroyal wave of his arm. “It will give me great pleasure to entertain youin my castle, where there is room enough and to spare. And if any of you wishto be nickel-plated, my valet will do it free of all expense.”

While the Woodman was speaking Glinda’s eyes had been noting the rose inhis button-hole, and now she imagined she saw the big red leaves of the flowertremble slightly. This quickly aroused her suspicions, and in a moment more theSorceress had decided that the seeming rose was nothing else than atransformation of old Mombi. At the same instant Mombi knew she was discoveredand must quickly plan an escape, and as transformations were easy to her sheimmediately took the form of a Shadow and glided along the wall of the tenttoward the entrance, thinking thus to disappear.

But Glinda had not only equal cunning, but far more experience than the Witch.So the Sorceress reached the opening of the tent before the Shadow, and with awave of her hand closed the entrance so securely that Mombi could not find acrack big enough to creep through. The Scarecrow and his friends were greatlysurprised at Glinda’s actions; for none of them had noted the Shadow. Butthe Sorceress said to them:

“Remain perfectly quiet, all of you! For the old Witch is even now withus in this tent, and I hope to capture her.”

These words so alarmed Mombi that she quickly transformed herself from a shadowto a Black Ant, in which shape she crawled along the ground, seeking a crack orcrevice in which to hide her tiny body.

Fortunately, the ground where the tent had been pitched, being Just before thecity gates, was hard and smooth; and while the Ant still crawled about, Glindadiscovered it and ran quickly forward to effect its capture But, Just as herhand was descending, the Witch, now fairly frantic with fear, made her lasttransformation, and in the form of a huge Griffin sprang through the wall ofthe tent—tearing the silk asunder in her rush—and in a moment haddarted away with the speed of a whirlwind.

Glinda did not hesitate to follow. She sprang upon the back of the Saw-Horseand cried:

“Now you shall prove that you have a right to be alive!Run—run—run!”

The Saw-Horse ran. Like a flash he followed the Griffin, his wooden legs movingso fast that they twinkled like the rays of a star. Before our friends couldrecover from their surprise both the Griffin and the Saw-Horse had dashed outof sight.

“Come! Let us follow!” cried the Scarecrow.

They ran to the place where the Gump was lying and quickly tumbled aboard.

“Fly!” commanded Tip, eagerly.

“Where to?” asked the Gump, in its calm voice.

“I don’t know,” returned Tip, who was very nervous at thedelay; “but if you will mount into the air I think we can discover whichway Glinda has gone.”

“Very well,” returned the Gump, quietly; and it spread its greatwings and mounted high into the air.

Far away, across the meadows, they could now see two tiny specks, speeding oneafter the other; and they knew these specks must be the Griffin and theSaw-Horse. So Tip called the Gump’s attention to them and bade thecreature try to overtake the Witch and the Sorceress. But, swift as was theGump’s flight, the pursued and pursuer moved more swiftly yet, and withina few moments were blotted out against the dim horizon.

“Let us continue to follow them, nevertheless,” said the Scarecrow.“for the Land of Oz is of small extent, and sooner or later they mustboth come to a halt.”

Old Mombi had thought herself very wise to choose the form of a Griffin, forits legs were exceedingly fleet and its strength more enduring than that ofother animals. But she had not reckoned on the untiring energy of theSaw-Horse, whose wooden limbs could run for days without slacking their speed.Therefore, after an hour’s hard running, the Griffin’s breath beganto fail, and it panted and gasped painfully, and moved more slowly than before.Then it reached the edge of the desert and began racing across the deep sands.But its tired feet sank far into the sand, and in a few minutes the Griffinfell forward, completely exhausted, and lay still upon the desert waste.

Glinda came up a moment later, riding the still vigorous Saw-Horse; and havingunwound a slender golden thread from her girdle the Sorceress threw it over thehead of the panting and helpless Griffin, and so destroyed the magical power ofMombi’s transformation.

For the animal, with one fierce shudder, disappeared from view, while in itsplace was discovered the form of the old Witch, glaring savagely at the sereneand beautiful face of the Sorceress.

Princess Ozma of Oz

“You are my prisoner, and it is useless for you to struggle anylonger,” said Glinda, in her soft, sweet voice. “Lie still amoment, and rest yourself, and then I will carry you back to my tent.”

“Why do you seek me?” asked Mombi, still scarce able to speakplainly for lack of breath. “What have I done to you, to be sopersecuted?”

“You have done nothing to me,” answered the gentle Sorceress;“but I suspect you have been guilty of several wicked actions; and if Ifind it is true that you have so abused your knowledge of magic, I intend topunish you severely.”

“I defy you!” croaked the old hag. “You dare not harmme!”

Just then the Gump flew up to them and alighted upon the desert sands besideGlinda. Our friends were delighted to find that Mombi had finally beencaptured, and after a hurried consultation it was decided they should allreturn to the camp in the Gump. So the Saw-Horse was tossed aboard, and thenGlinda still holding an end of the golden thread that was around Mombi’sneck, forced her prisoner to climb into the sofas. The others now followed, andTip gave the word to the Gump to return.

The Journey was made in safety, Mombi sitting in her place with a grim andsullen air; for the old hag was absolutely helpless so long as the magicalthread encircled her throat. The army hailed Glinda’s return with loudcheers, and the party of friends soon gathered again in the royal tent, whichhad been neatly repaired during their absence.

“Now,” said the Sorceress to Mombi, “I want you to tell uswhy the Wonderful Wizard of Oz paid you three visits, and what became of thechild, Ozma, which so curiously disappeared.”

The Witch looked at Glinda defiantly, but said not a word.

“Answer me!” cried the Sorceress.

But still Mombi remained silent.

“Perhaps she doesn’t know,” remarked Jack.

“I beg you will keep quiet,” said Tip. “You might spoileverything with your foolishness.”

“Very well, dear father!” returned the Pumpkinhead, meekly.

“How glad I am to be a Woggle-Bug!” murmured the Highly MagnifiedInsect, softly. “No one can expect wisdom to flow from a pumpkin.”

“Well,” said the Scarecrow, “what shall we do to make Mombispeak? Unless she tells us what we wish to know her capture will do us no goodat all.”

“Suppose we try kindness,” suggested the Tin Woodman.“I’ve heard that anyone can be conquered with kindness, no matterhow ugly they may be.”

At this the Witch turned to glare upon him so horribly that the Tin Woodmanshrank back abashed.

Glinda had been carefully considering what to do, and now she turned to Mombiand said:

“You will gain nothing, I assure you, by thus defying us. For I amdetermined to learn the truth about the girl Ozma, and unless you tell me allthat you know, I will certainly put you to death.”

“Oh, no! Don’t do that!” exclaimed the Tin Woodman. “Itwould be an awful thing to kill anyone—even old Mombi!”

“But it is merely a threat,” returned Glinda. “I shall notput Mombi to death, because she will prefer to tell me the truth.”

“Oh, I see!” said the tin man, much relieved.

“Suppose I tell you all that you wish to know,”. said Mombi,speaking so suddenly that she startled them all. “What will you do withme then?”

“In that case,” replied Glinda, “I shall merely ask you todrink a powerful draught which will cause you to forget all the magic you haveever learned.”

“Then I would become a helpless old woman!”

“But you would be alive,” suggested the Pumpkinhead, consolingly.

“Do try to keep silent!” said Tip, nervously.

“I’ll try,” responded Jack; “but you will admit thatit’s a good thing to be alive.”

“Especially if one happens to be Thoroughly Educated,” added theWoggle-Bug, nodding approval.

“You may make your choice,” Glinda said to old Mombi,“between death if you remain silent, and the loss of your magical powersif you tell me the truth. But I think you will prefer to live.”

Mombi cast an uneasy glance at the Sorceress, and saw that she was in earnest,and not to be trifled with. So she replied, slowly:

“I will answer your questions.”

“That is what I expected,” said Glinda, pleasantly. “You havechosen wisely, I assure you.”

She then motioned to one of her Captains, who brought her a beautiful goldencasket. From this the Sorceress drew an immense white pearl, attached to aslender chain which she placed around her neck in such a way that the pearlrested upon her bosom, directly over her heart.

“Now,” said she, “I will ask my first question: Why did theWizard pay you three visits?”

“Because I would not come to him,” answered Mombi.

“That is no answer,” said Glinda, sternly. “Tell me thetruth.”

“Well,” returned Mombi, with downcast eyes, “he visited me tolearn the way I make tea-biscuits.”

“Look up!” commanded the Sorceress.

Mombi obeyed.

“What is the color of my pearl?” demanded Glinda.

“Why—it is black!” replied the old Witch, in a tone ofwonder.

“Then you have told me a falsehood!” cried Glinda, angrily.“Only when the truth is spoken will my magic pearl remain a pure white incolor.”

Mombi now saw how useless it was to try to deceive the Sorceress; so she said,meanwhile scowling at her defeat:

“The Wizard brought to me the girl Ozma, who was then no more than ababy, and begged me to conceal the child.”

“That is what I thought,” declared Glinda, calmly. “What didhe give you for thus serving him?”

“He taught me all the magical tricks he knew. Some were good tricks, andsome were only frauds; but I have remained faithful to my promise.”

“What did you do with the girl?” asked Glinda; and at this questioneveryone bent forward and listened eagerly for the reply.

“I enchanted her,” answered Mombi.

“In what way?”

“I transformed her into—into—”

“Into what?” demanded Glinda, as the Witch hesitated.

“Into a boy!” said Mombi, in a low tone.

“A boy!” echoed every voice; and then, because they knew that thisold woman had reared Tip from childhood, all eyes were turned to where the boystood.

“Yes,” said the old Witch, nodding her head; “that is thePrincess Ozma—the child brought to me by the Wizard who stole herfather’s throne. That is the rightful ruler of the Emerald City!”and she pointed her long bony finger straight at the boy.

“I!” cried Tip, in amazement. “Why, I’m no PrincessOzma—I’m not a girl!”

Glinda smiled, and going to Tip she took his small brown hand within her daintywhite one.

“You are not a girl just now” said she, gently, “becauseMombi transformed you into a boy. But you were born a girl, and also aPrincess; so you must resume your proper form, that you may become Queen of theEmerald City.”

“Oh, let Jinjur be the Queen!” exclaimed Tip, ready to cry.“I want to stay a boy, and travel with the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman,and the Woggle-Bug, and Jack—yes! and my friend the Saw-Horse—andthe Gump! I don’t want to be a girl!”

“Never mind, old chap,” said the Tin Woodman, soothingly; “itdon’t hurt to be a girl, I’m told; and we will all remain yourfaithful friends just the same. And, to be honest with you, I’ve alwaysconsidered girls nicer than boys.”

“They’re just as nice, anyway,” added the Scarecrow, pattingTip affectionately upon the head.

“And they are equally good students,” proclaimed the Woggle-Bug.“I should like to become your tutor, when you are transformed into a girlagain.”

“But—see here!” said Jack Pumpkinhead, with a gasp: “ifyou become a girl, you can’t be my dear father any more!”

“No,” answered Tip, laughing in spite of his anxiety. “and Ishall not be sorry to escape the relationship.” Then he added,hesitatingly, as he turned to Glinda: “I might try it for awhile,-just tosee how it seems, you know. But if I don’t like being a girl you mustpromise to change me into a boy again.”

“Really,” said the Sorceress, “that is beyond my magic. Inever deal in transformations, for they are not honest, and no respectablesorceress likes to make things appear to be what they are not. Onlyunscrupulous witches use the art, and therefore I must ask Mombi to effect yourrelease from her charm, and restore you to your proper form. It will be thelast opportunity she will have to practice magic.”

Now that the truth about Princes Ozma had been discovered, Mombi did not carewhat became of Tip; but she feared Glinda’s anger, and the boy generouslypromised to provide for Mombi in her old age if he became the ruler of theEmerald City. So the Witch consented to effect the transformation, andpreparations for the event were at once made.

Glinda ordered her own royal couch to be placed in the center of the tent. Itwas piled high with cushions covered with rose-colored silk, and from a goldenrailing above hung many folds of pink gossamer, completely concealing theinterior of the couch.

The first act of the Witch was to make the boy drink a potion which quicklysent him into a deep and dreamless sleep. Then the Tin Woodman and theWoggle-Bug bore him gently to the couch, placed him upon the soft cushions, anddrew the gossamer hangings to shut him from all earthly view.

The Witch squatted upon the ground and kindled a tiny fire of dried herbs,which she drew from her bosom. When the blaze shot up and burned clearly oldMombi scattered a handful of magical powder over the fire, which straightwaygave off a rich violet vapor, filling all the tent with its fragrance andforcing the Saw-Horse to sneeze—although he had been warned to keepquiet.

Then, while the others watched her curiously, the hag chanted a rhythmicalverse in words which no one understood, and bent her lean body seven times backand forth over the fire. And now the incantation seemed complete, for the Witchstood upright and cried the one word “Yeowa!” in a loud voice.

The vapor floated away; the atmosphere became, clear again; a whiff of freshair filled the tent, and the pink curtains of the couch trembled slightly, asif stirred from within.

Glinda walked to the canopy and parted the silken hangings. Then she bent overthe cushions, reached out her hand, and from the couch arose the form of ayoung girl, fresh and beautiful as a May morning. Her eyes sparkled as twodiamonds, and her lips were tinted like a tourmaline. All adown her backfloated tresses of ruddy gold, with a slender jeweled circlet confining them atthe brow. Her robes of silken gauze floated around her like a cloud, and daintysatin slippers shod her feet.

At this exquisite vision Tip’s old comrades stared in wonder for thespace of a full minute, and then every head bent low in honest admiration ofthe lovely Princess Ozma. The girl herself cast one look into Glinda’sbright face, which glowed with pleasure and satisfaction, and then turned uponthe others. Speaking the words with sweet diffidence, she said:

“I hope none of you will care less for me than you did before. I’mjust the same Tip, you know; only—only—”

“Only you’re different!” said the Pumpkinhead; and everyonethought it was the wisest speech he had ever made.

The Riches of Content

When the wonderful tidings reached the ears of Queen Jinjur—how Mombi theWitch had been captured; how she had confessed her crime to Glinda; and how thelong-lost Princess Ozma had been discovered in no less a personage than the boyTip—she wept real tears of grief and despair.

“To think,” she moaned, “that after having ruled as Queen,and lived in a palace, I must go back to scrubbing floors and churning butteragain! It is too horrible to think of! I will never consent!”

So when her soldiers, who spent most of their time making fudge in the palacekitchens, counseled Jinjur to resist, she listened to their foolish prattle andsent a sharp defiance to Glinda the Good and the Princess Ozma. The result wasa declaration of war, and the very next day Glinda marched upon the EmeraldCity with pennants flying and bands playing, and a forest of shining spears,sparkling brightly beneath the sun’s rays.

But when it came to the walls this brave assembly made a sudden halt; forJinjur had closed and barred every gateway, and the walls of the Emerald Citywere builded high and thick with many blocks of green marble. Finding heradvance thus baffled, Glinda bent her brows in deep thought, while theWoggle-Bug said, in his most positive tone:

“We must lay siege to the city, and starve it into submission. It is theonly thing we can do.”

“Not so,” answered the Scarecrow. “We still have the Gump,and the Gump can still fly”

The Sorceress turned quickly at this speech, and her face now wore a brightsmile.

“You are right,” she exclaimed, “and certainly have reason tobe proud of your brains. Let us go to the Gump at once!”

So they passed through the ranks of the army until they came to the place, nearthe Scarecrow’s tent, where the Gump lay. Glinda and Princess Ozmamounted first, and sat upon the sofas. Then the Scarecrow and his friendsclimbed aboard, and still there was room for a Captain and three soldiers,which Glinda considered sufficient for a guard.

Now, at a word from the Princess, the queer Thing they had called the Gumpflopped its palm-leaf wings and rose into the air, carrying the party ofadventurers high above the walls. They hovered over the palace, and soonperceived Jinjur reclining in a hammock in the courtyard, where she wascomfortably reading a novel with a green cover and eating green chocolates,confident that the walls would protect her from her enemies. Obeying a quickcommand, the Gump alighted safely in this very courtyard, and before Jinjur hadtime to do more than scream, the Captain and three soldiers leaped out and madethe former Queen a prisoner, locking strong chains upon both her wrists.

That act really ended the war; for the Army of Revolt submitted as soon as theyknew Jinjur to be a captive, and the Captain marched in safety through thestreets and up to the gates of the city, which she threw wide open. Then thebands played their most stirring music while Glinda’s army marched intothe city, and heralds proclaimed the conquest of the audacious Jinjur and theaccession of the beautiful Princess Ozma to the throne of her royal ancestors.

At once the men of the Emerald City cast off their aprons. And it is said thatthe women were so tired eating of their husbands’ cooking that they allhailed the conquest of Jinjur with Joy. Certain it is that, rushing one and allto the kitchens of their houses, the good wives prepared so delicious a feastfor the weary men that harmony was immediately restored in every family.

Ozma’s first act was to oblige the Army of Revolt to return to her everyemerald or other gem stolen from the public streets and buildings; and so greatwas the number of precious stones picked from their settings by these vaingirls, that every one of the royal jewelers worked steadily for more than amonth to replace them in their settings.

Meanwhile the Army of Revolt was disbanded and the girls sent home to theirmothers. On promise of good behavior Jinjur was likewise released.

Ozma made the loveliest Queen the Emerald City had ever known; and, althoughshe was so young and inexperienced, she ruled her people with wisdom andJustice. For Glinda gave her good advice on all occasions; and the Woggle-Bug,who was appointed to the important post of Public Educator, was quite helpfulto Ozma when her royal duties grew perplexing.

The girl, in her gratitude to the Gump for its services, offered the creatureany reward it might name.

“Then,” replied the Gump, “please take me to pieces. I didnot wish to be brought to life, and I am greatly ashamed of my conglomeratepersonality. Once I was a monarch of the forest, as my antlers fully prove; butnow, in my present upholstered condition of servitude, I am compelled to flythrough the air—my legs being of no use to me whatever. Therefore I begto be dispersed.”

So Ozma ordered the Gump taken apart. The antlered head was again hung over themantle-piece in the hall, and the sofas were untied and placed in the receptionparlors. The broom tail resumed its accustomed duties in the kitchen, andfinally, the Scarecrow replaced all the clotheslines and ropes on the pegs fromwhich he had taken them on the eventful day when the Thing was constructed.

You might think that was the end of the Gump; and so it was, as aflying-machine. But the head over the mantle-piece continued to talk wheneverit took a notion to do so, and it frequently startled, with its abruptquestions, the people who waited in the hall for an audience with the Queen.

The Saw-Horse, being Ozma’s personal property, was tenderly cared for;and often she rode the queer creature along the streets of the Emerald City.She had its wooden legs shod with gold, to keep them from wearing out, and thetinkle of these golden shoes upon the pavement always filled the Queen’ssubjects with awe as they thought upon this evidence of her magical powers.

“The Wonderful Wizard was never so wonderful as Queen Ozma,” thepeople said to one another, in whispers; “for he claimed to do manythings he could not do; whereas our new Queen does many things no one wouldever expect her to accomplish.”

Jack Pumpkinhead remained with Ozma to the end of his days; and he did notspoil as soon as he had feared, although he always remained as stupid as ever.The Woggle-Bug tried to teach him several arts and sciences; but Jack was sopoor a student that any attempt to educate him was soon abandoned.

After Glinda’s army had marched back home, and peace was restored to theEmerald City, the Tin Woodman announced his intention to return to his ownKingdom of the Winkies.

“It isn’t a very big Kingdom,” said he to Ozma, “butfor that very reason it is easier to rule; and I have called myself an Emperorbecause I am an Absolute Monarch, and no one interferes in any way with myconduct of public or personal affairs. When I get home I shall have a new coatof nickel plate; for I have become somewhat marred and scratched lately; andthen I shall be glad to have you pay me a visit.”

“Thank you,” replied Ozma. “Some day I may accept theinvitation. But what is to become of the Scarecrow?”

“I shall return with my friend the Tin Woodman,” said the stuffedone, seriously. “We have decided never to be parted in the future.”

“And I have made the Scarecrow my Royal Treasurer,” explained theTin Woodman. “For it has occurred to me that it is a good thing to have aRoyal Treasurer who is made of money. What do you think?”

“I think,” said the little Queen, smiling, “that your friendmust be the richest man in all the world.”

“I am,” returned the Scarecrow. “but not on account of mymoney. For I consider brains far superior to money, in every way. You may havenoticed that if one has money without brains, he cannot use it to advantage;but if one has brains without money, they will enable him to live comfortablyto the end of his days.”

“At the same time,” declared the Tin Woodman, “you mustacknowledge that a good heart is a thing that brains can not create, and thatmoney can not buy. Perhaps, after all, it is I who am the richest man in allthe world.”

“You are both rich, my friends,” said Ozma, gently; “and yourriches are the only riches worth having—the riches of content!”

The End

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