The Marvelous Land of Oz 4The Marvelous Land of Oz (part 4)
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Literature · Fantasy
The Marvelous Land of Oz 4
The Marvelous Land of Oz (part 4)
BaumEnglish
“Yes,” answered the Tin Woodman; “but our friend’s clothes 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 are thousands of dollar bills—and two-dollar bills—and five-dollar bills—and tens, and twenties, and fifties. There are enough of them to stuff 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 be all bills of various denominations, which the mischievous Jackdaws had for years been engaged in stealing from the villages and cities they visited.
There was an immense fortune lying in that inaccessible nest; and Tip’s suggestion was, with the Scarecrow’s consent, quickly acted upon.
They selected all the newest and cleanest bills and assorted them into various piles. The Scarecrow’s left leg and boot were stuffed with five-dollar bills; his right leg was stuffed with ten-dollar bills, and his body so closely filled with fifties, one-hundreds and one-thousands that he could scarcely button his jacket with comfort.
“You are now” said the Woggle-Bug, impressively, when the task had been completed, “the most valuable member of our party; and as you are among faithful friends there is little danger of your being spent.”
“Thank you,” returned the Scarecrow, gratefully. “I feel like a new man; and although at first glance I might be mistaken for a Safety Deposit Vault, I beg you to remember that my Brains are still composed of the same old material. And these are the possessions that have always made me a person to be depended upon in an emergency.”
“Well, the emergency is here,” observed Tip; “and unless your brains help us out of it we shall be compelled to pass the remainder of our lives in this nest.”
“How about these wishing pills?” enquired the Scarecrow, taking the box from his jacket pocket. “Can’t we use them to escape?”
“Not unless we can count seventeen by twos,” answered the Tin Woodman. “But our friend the Woggle-Bug claims to be highly educated, so he 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 the professor work lots of sums on the blackboard, and he claimed anything could be done with x’s and y’s and a’s, and such things, by mixing them up with plenty of plusses and minuses and equals, and so forth. But he never said anything, so far as I can remember, about counting up to the odd number of seventeen by the even numbers of twos.”
“Stop! stop!” cried the Pumpkinhead. “You’re making my head ache.”
“And mine,” added the Scarecrow. “Your mathematics seem to me very like a bottle of mixed pickles the more you fish for what you want the less chance you have of getting it. I am certain that if the thing can be accomplished at all, it is in a very simple manner.”
“Yes,” said Tip. “old Mombi couldn’t use x’s and minuses, 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 very easily.”
They looked at each other in surprise, for the Saw-Horse was considered the most stupid of the entire party.
“You make me quite ashamed of myself,” said the Scarecrow, bowing low 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 count from one up to seventeen by twos.”
“I wonder I didn’t think of that myself,” said the Pumpkinhead.
“I don’t,” returned the Scarecrow. “You’re no wiser than the rest of us, are you? But let us make a wish at once. Who will swallow 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 connected with it,” answered the Scarecrow. “In fact,” he continued, looking from one to another critically, “I believe the boy and the Woggle-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 Silver Pills.”
This the Scarecrow tried to do; but his padded gloves were too clumsy to clutch so small an object, and he held the box toward the boy while Tip selected one of the pills and swallowed it.
But Just then the boy began to suffer such fearful pains that he became alarmed.
“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 the nest 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! I wish I’d never swallowed that pill!”
Then at once the pain stopped, and the boy rose to his feet again and found the Scarecrow looking with amazement at the end of the pepper-box.
“What’s happened?” asked the boy, a little ashamed of his recent exhibition.
“Why, the three pills are in the box again!” said the Scarecrow.
“Of course they are,” the Woggle-Bug declared. “Didn’t Tip wish that he’d never swallowed one of them? Well, the wish came true, and he didn’t swallow one of them. So of course they are all three in 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 never swallowed it, the pill can not have given you a pain. And as your wish, being granted, proves you did not swallow the pill, it is also plain that you suffered no pain.”
“Then it was a splendid imitation of a pain,” retorted Tip, angrily. “Suppose you try the next pill yourself. We’ve wasted one wish already.”
“Oh, no, we haven’t!” protested the Scarecrow. “Here are still three pills in the box, and each pill is good for a wish.”
“Now you’re making my head ache,” said Tip. “I can’t understand the thing at all. But I won’t take another pill, I promise you!” and with this remark he retired sulkily to the back of the nest.
“Well,” said the Woggle-Bug, “it remains for me to save us in my most Highly Magnified and Thoroughly Educated manner; for I seem to be the only 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 courage while the Insect counted seventeen by twos in the same way that Tip had done. And for some reason—perhaps because Woggle-Bugs have stronger stomachs than 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 that the Gump lay before them in perfect repair, and as well able to fly through the air 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 leave this miserable Jackdaws’ nest whenever we please.”
“But it is nearly dark,” said the Tin Woodman; “and unless we wait until morning to make our flight we may get into more trouble. I don’t like these night trips, for one never knows what will happen.”
So it was decided to wait until daylight, and the adventurers amused themselves in the twilight by searching the Jackdaws’ nest for treasures.
The Woggle-Bug found two handsome bracelets of wrought gold, which fitted his slender arms very well. The Scarecrow took a fancy for rings, of which there were many in the nest. Before long he had fitted a ring to each finger of his padded gloves, and not being content with that display he added one more to each thumb. As he carefully chose those rings set with sparkling stones, such as rubies, amethysts and sapphires, the Scarecrow’s hands now presented a most 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 to rob my city of its emeralds.”
The Tin Woodman was content with his diamond necklace and refused to accept any additional decorations; but Tip secured a fine gold watch, which was attached to a heavy fob, and placed it in his pocket with much pride. He also pinned several jeweled brooches to Jack Pumpkinhead’s red waistcoat, and attached a lorgnette, by means of a fine chain, to the neck of the Saw-Horse.
“It’s very pretty,” said the creature, regarding the lorgnette approvingly; “but what is it for?”
None of them could answer that question, however; so the Saw-Horse decided it was some rare decoration and became very fond of it.
That none of the party might be slighted, they ended by placing several large seal rings upon the points of the Gump’s antlers, although that odd personage seemed by no means gratified by the attention.
Darkness soon fell upon them, and Tip and the Woggle-Bug went to sleep while the others sat down to wait patiently for the day.
Next morning they had cause to congratulate themselves upon the useful condition of the Gump; for with daylight a great flock of Jackdaws approached to engage in one more battle for the possession of the nest.
But our adventurers did not wait for the assault. They tumbled into the cushioned seats of the sofas as quickly as possible, and Tip gave the word to the Gump to start.
At once it rose into the air, the great wings flopping strongly and with regular motions, and in a few moments they were so far from the nest that the chattering 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 that the Scarecrow was the best judge of direction. After passing over several cities and villages the Gump carried them high above a broad plain where houses became more and more scattered until they disappeared altogether. Next came the wide, sandy desert separating the rest of the world from the Land of Oz, and before noon they saw the dome-shaped houses that proved they were once more within 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 a long 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 we were at the Emerald City we could then move directly southward, and so reach our destination. But we dare not go to the Emerald City, and the Gump is probably carrying us further in the wrong direction with every flop of its wings.”
“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’m willing.”
But when the Scarecrow searched in his pocket for the pepper-box containing the two silver Wishing Pills, it was not to be found. Filled with anxiety, the voyagers hunted throughout every inch of the Thing for the precious box; but it had 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,” said the Scarecrow, at length.
“It is a great misfortune,” the Tin Woodman declared. “But we are no worse off than before we discovered the Wishing Pills.”
“We are better off,” replied Tip. “for the one pill we used has enabled us to escape from that horrible nest.”
“Yet the loss of the other two is serious, and I deserve a good scolding for my carelessness,” the Scarecrow rejoined, penitently. “For in such an unusual party as this accidents are liable to happen any moment, and even 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 reached the South Country,” he cried, “for below us everything is red!”
Immediately they all leaned over the backs of the sofas to look—all except Jack, who was too careful of his pumpkin head to risk its slipping off his neck. Sure enough; the red houses and fences and trees indicated they were within the domain of Glinda the Good; and presently, as they glided rapidly on, the Tin Woodman recognized the roads and buildings they passed, and altered slightly the flight of the Gump so that they might reach the palace of the celebrated Sorceress.
“Good!” cried the Scarecrow, delightedly. “We do not need the lost Wishing Pills now, for we have arrived at our destination.”
Gradually the Thing sank lower and nearer to the ground until at length it came to rest within the beautiful gardens of Glinda, settling upon a velvety green lawn 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 carved marble basin placed to receive them.
Everything was very gorgeous in Glinda’s gardens, and while our voyagers gazed about with admiring eyes a company of soldiers silently appeared and surrounded them. But these soldiers of the great Sorceress were entirely different from those of Jinjur’s Army of Revolt, although they were likewise girls. For Glinda’s soldiers wore neat uniforms and bore swords and spears; and they marched with a skill and precision that proved them well trained in the arts of war.
The Captain commanding this troop—which was Glinda’s private Body Guard—recognized the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman at once, and greeted them with respectful salutations.
“Good day!” said the Scarecrow, gallantly removing his hat, while the Woodman gave a soldierly salute; “we have come to request an audience with your fair Ruler.”
“Glinda is now within her palace, awaiting you,” returned the Captain; “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 is a mighty Sorceress, and nothing that goes on in the Land of Oz escapes her notice. 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 the palace—even the Saw-Horse taking his place in the queer procession.
Upon her throne of finely wrought gold sat Glinda, and she could scarcely repress a smile as her peculiar visitors entered and bowed before her. Both the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman she knew and liked; but the awkward Pumpkinhead and Highly Magnified Woggle-Bug were creatures she had never seen before, and they seemed even more curious than the others. As for the Saw-Horse, he looked to be nothing more than an animated chunk of wood; and he bowed so stiffly that his head bumped against the floor, causing a ripple of laughter among the soldiers, 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 of impudent girls with knitting-needles, who have enslaved all the men, robbed the streets and public buildings of all their emerald jewels, and usurped my throne.”
“I know it,” said Glinda.
“They also threatened to destroy me, as well as all the good friends and allies you see before you,” continued the Scarecrow. “and had we not managed to escape their clutches our days would long since have ended.”
“I know it,” repeated Glinda.
“Therefore I have come to beg your assistance,” resumed the Scarecrow, “for I believe you are always glad to succor the unfortunate and oppressed.”
“That is true,” replied the Sorceress, slowly. “But the Emerald City is now ruled by General Jinjur, who has caused herself to be proclaimed 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 the Scarecrow, becoming confused under the intent look of the Sorceress.
“Then,” declared Glinda, “the throne of the Emerald City belongs neither to you nor to Jinjur, but to this Pastoria from whom the Wizard usurped it.”
“That is true,” acknowledged the Scarecrow, humbly; “but Pastoria 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 the Emerald City. Did you know that?” questioned the Sorceress.
“No,” replied the Scarecrow. “But if the girl still lives I will not stand in her way. It will satisfy me as well to have Jinjur turned out, as an impostor, as to regain the throne myself. In fact, it isn’t much fun to be King, especially if one has good brains. I have known for some time that I am fitted to occupy a far more exalted position. But where is the girl who owns the throne, and what is her name?”
“Her name is Ozma,” answered Glinda. “But where she is I have tried in vain to discover. For the Wizard of Oz, when he stole the throne from Ozma’s father, hid the girl in some secret place; and by means of a magical trick with which I am not familiar he also managed to prevent her being discovered—even by so experienced a Sorceress as myself.”
“That is strange,” interrupted the Woggle-Bug, pompously. “I have been informed that the Wonderful Wizard of Oz was nothing more than a humbug!”
“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 Tin Woodman, 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 very great 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 have hidden 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 Tin Woodman.
“I must really make another effort to discover where this girl is hidden,” resumed the Sorceress, thoughtfully. “I have in my library a book in which is inscribed every action of the Wizard while he was in our land 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 that may guide us in discovering the lost Ozma. In the meantime, pray amuse yourselves in my palace and command my servants as if they were your own. I will grant you another audience tomorrow.”
With this gracious speech Glinda dismissed the adventurers, and they wandered away through the beautiful gardens, where they passed several hours enjoying all the delightful things with which the Queen of the Southland had surrounded her 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’s actions, and among them I can find but three that appear to have been suspicious. 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 had corns. Now, it seems to me his eating beans with a knife is more suspicious.”
“Perhaps it is a polite custom in Omaha, from which great country the Wizard originally came,” suggested the Tin Woodman.
“It may be,” admitted the Scarecrow.
“But why,” asked Glinda, “did he make three secret visits to old Mombi?”
“Ah! Why, indeed!” echoed the Woggle-Bug, impressively.
“We know that the Wizard taught the old woman many of his tricks of magic,” continued Glinda; “and this he would not have done had she not assisted him in some way. So we may suspect with good reason that Mombi aided him to hide the girl Ozma, who was the real heir to the throne of the Emerald City, and a constant danger to the usurper. For, if the people knew that she lived, they would quickly make her their Queen and restore her to her rightful position.”
“An able argument!” cried the Scarecrow. “I have no doubt that Mombi was mixed up in this wicked business. But how does that knowledge help us?”
“We must find Mombi,” replied Glinda, “and force her to tell where 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 Jinjur threaten to destroy my friends and give me back into the old witch’s power.”
“Then,” decided Glinda, “I will march with my army to the Emerald City, and take Mombi prisoner. After that we can, perhaps, force her to tell the truth about Ozma.”
“She is a terrible old woman!” remarked Tip, with a shudder at the thought of Mombi’s black kettle; “and obstinate, too.”
“I am quite obstinate myself,” returned the Sorceress, with a sweet smile. “so I do not fear Mombi in the least. Today I will make all necessary preparations, and we will march upon the Emerald City at daybreak tomorrow.”
The Tin-Woodman Plucks a Rose
The Army of Glinda the Good looked very grand and imposing when it assembled at daybreak before the palace gates. The uniforms of the girl soldiers were pretty and 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 seemed that 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 a coach has, the palanquin rested upon two long, horizontal bars, which were borne upon the shoulders of twelve servants.
The Scarecrow and his comrades decided to ride in the Gump, in order to keep up with the swift march of the army; so, as soon as Glinda had started and her soldiers had marched away to the inspiring strains of music played by the royal band, our friends climbed into the sofas and followed. The Gump flew along slowly at a point directly over the palanquin in which rode the Sorceress.
“Be careful,” said the Tin Woodman to the Scarecrow, who was leaning far over the side to look at the army below. “You might fall.”
“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 your pardon. I will really try to restrain myself.”
“You’d better,” declared the boy. “That is, if you wish to travel in our company.”
“Ah! I couldn’t bear to part with you now,” murmured the Insect, feelingly; so Tip let the subject drop.
The army moved steadily on, but night had fallen before they came to the walls of the Emerald City. By the dim light of the new moon, however, Glinda’s forces silently surrounded the city and pitched their tents of scarlet silk upon the greensward. The tent of the Sorceress was larger than the others, and was composed of pure white silk, with scarlet banners flying above it. A tent was also pitched for the Scarecrow’s party; and when these preparations had been made, with military precision and quickness, the army retired to rest.
Great was the amazement of Queen Jinjur next morning when her soldiers came running to inform her of the vast army surrounding them. She at once climbed to a high tower of the royal palace and saw banners waving in every direction and the great white tent of Glinda standing directly before the gates.
“We are surely lost!” cried Jinjur, in despair; “for how can our knitting-needles avail against the long spears and terrible swords of our foes?”
“The best thing we can do,” said one of the girls, “is to surrender as quickly as possible, before we get hurt.”
“Not so,” returned Jinjur, more bravely. “The enemy is still outside the walls, so we must try to gain time by engaging them in parley. Go you with a flag of truce to Glinda and ask her why she has dared to invade my dominions, and what are her demands.”
So the girl passed through the gates, bearing a white flag to show she was on a mission of peace, and came to Glinda’s tent. “Tell your Queen,” said the Sorceress to the girl, “that she must deliver up to me old Mombi, to be my prisoner. If this is done I will not molest her farther.”
Now when this message was delivered to the Queen it filled her with dismay, for Mombi 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, after glancing into a magic mirror she carried in her pocket. “But we may even yet escape by deceiving this sorceress, clever as she thinks herself.”
“Don’t you think it will be safer for me to deliver you into her hands?” 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 so aristocratic to be a Queen that I do not wish to be obliged to return home again, to make beds and wash dishes for my mother.”
So Mombi called Jellia Jamb to her, and performed a certain magical rite with which she was familiar. As a result of the enchantment Jellia took on the form and features of Mombi, while the old witch grew to resemble the girl so closely that it seemed impossible anyone could guess the deception.
“Now,” said old Mombi to the Queen, “let your soldiers deliver up this girl to Glinda. She will think she has the real Mombi in her power, and so will return immediately to her own country in the South.”
Therefore Jellia, hobbling along like an aged woman, was led from the city gates 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 us in peace.”
“That I will surely do,” replied Glinda, much pleased; “if this is really the person she seems to be.”
“It is certainly old Mombi,” said the guard, who believed she was speaking the truth; and then Jinjur’s soldiers returned within the city’s gates.
The Sorceress quickly summoned the Scarecrow and his friends to her tent, and began to question the supposed Mombi about the lost girl Ozma. But Jellia knew nothing at all of this affair, and presently she grew so nervous under the questioning that she gave way and began to weep, to Glinda’s great astonishment.
“Here is some foolish trickery!” said the Sorceress, her eyes flashing with anger. “This is not Mombi at all, but some other person who has been made to resemble her! Tell me,” she demanded, turning to the trembling girl, “what is your name?”
This Jellia dared not tell, having been threatened with death by the witch if she confessed the fraud. But Glinda, sweet and fair though she was, understood magic better than any other person in the Land of Oz. So, by uttering a few potent words and making a peculiar gesture, she quickly transformed the girl into her proper shape, while at the same time old Mombi, far away in Jinjur’s palace, suddenly resumed her own crooked form and evil features.
“Why, it’s Jellia Jamb!” cried the Scarecrow, recognizing in the girl one of his old friends.
“It’s our interpreter!” said the Pumpkinhead, smiling pleasantly.
Then Jellia was forced to tell of the trick Mombi had played and she also begged Glinda’s protection, which the Sorceress readily granted. But Glinda was now really angry, and sent word to Jinjur that the fraud was discovered and she must deliver up the real Mombi or suffer terrible consequences. Jinjur was prepared for this message, for the witch well understood, when her natural form was thrust upon her, that Glinda had discovered her trickery. But the wicked old creature had already thought up a new deception, and had made Jinjur promise to carry it out. So the Queen said to Glinda’s messenger:
“Tell your mistress that I cannot find Mombi anywhere, but that Glinda is welcome to enter the city and search herself for the old woman. She may also bring her friends with her, if she likes; but if she does not find Mombi by sundown, the Sorceress must promise to go away peaceably and bother us no more.”
Glinda agreed to these terms, well knowing that Mombi was somewhere within the city walls. So Jinjur caused the gates to be thrown open, and Glinda marched in at the head of a company of soldiers, followed by the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman, while Jack Pumpkinhead rode astride the Saw-Horse, and the Educated, Highly Magnified Woggle-Bug sauntered behind in a dignified manner. Tip walked by the side of the Sorceress, for Glinda had conceived a great liking for the boy.
Of course old Mombi had no intention of being found by Glinda; so, while her enemies were marching up the street, the witch transformed herself into a red rose growing upon a bush in the garden of the palace. It was a clever idea, and a trick Glinda did not suspect; so several precious hours were spent in a vain search for Mombi.
As sundown approached the Sorceress realized she had been defeated by the superior cunning of the aged witch; so she gave the command to her people to march out of the city and back to their tents.
The Scarecrow and his comrades happened to be searching in the garden of the palace just then, and they turned with disappointment to obey Glinda’s command. But before they left the garden the Tin Woodman, who was fond of flowers, chanced to espy a big red rose growing upon a bush; so he plucked the flower 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 he paid no attention to the sound, and Mombi was thus carried out of the city and into Glinda’s camp without anyone having a suspicion that they had succeeded in their quest.
The Transformation of Old Mombi
The Witch was at first frightened at finding herself captured by the enemy; but soon she decided that she was exactly as safe in the Tin Woodman’s button-hole as growing upon the bush. For no one knew the rose and Mombi to be one, and now that she was without the gates of the City her chances of escaping altogether from Glinda were much improved.
“But there is no hurry,” thought Mombi. “I will wait awhile and enjoy the humiliation of this Sorceress when she finds I have outwitted her.” So throughout the night the rose lay quietly on the Woodman’s bosom, 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 this cunning old Mombi; so I fear our expedition will prove a failure. And for that I am sorry, because without our assistance little Ozma will never be rescued and restored to her rightful position as Queen of the Emerald City”
“Do not let us give up so easily,” said the Pumpkinhead. “Let us 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 old Witch 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 conquer the Emerald City for Princess Ozma, and find the girl afterward,” said the Scarecrow. “And while the girl remains hidden I will gladly rule in her place, for I understand the business of ruling much better than Jinjur does.”
“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 a royal wave of his arm. “It will give me great pleasure to entertain you in my castle, where there is room enough and to spare. And if any of you wish to 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 in his button-hole, and now she imagined she saw the big red leaves of the flower tremble slightly. This quickly aroused her suspicions, and in a moment more the Sorceress had decided that the seeming rose was nothing else than a transformation of old Mombi. At the same instant Mombi knew she was discovered and must quickly plan an escape, and as transformations were easy to her she immediately took the form of a Shadow and glided along the wall of the tent toward 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 a wave of her hand closed the entrance so securely that Mombi could not find a crack big enough to creep through. The Scarecrow and his friends were greatly surprised at Glinda’s actions; for none of them had noted the Shadow. But the Sorceress said to them:
“Remain perfectly quiet, all of you! For the old Witch is even now with us in this tent, and I hope to capture her.”
These words so alarmed Mombi that she quickly transformed herself from a shadow to a Black Ant, in which shape she crawled along the ground, seeking a crack or crevice in which to hide her tiny body.
Fortunately, the ground where the tent had been pitched, being Just before the city gates, was hard and smooth; and while the Ant still crawled about, Glinda discovered it and ran quickly forward to effect its capture But, Just as her hand was descending, the Witch, now fairly frantic with fear, made her last transformation, and in the form of a huge Griffin sprang through the wall of the tent—tearing the silk asunder in her rush—and in a moment had darted away with the speed of a whirlwind.
Glinda did not hesitate to follow. She sprang upon the back of the Saw-Horse and 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 moving so fast that they twinkled like the rays of a star. Before our friends could recover from their surprise both the Griffin and the Saw-Horse had dashed out of 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 the delay; “but if you will mount into the air I think we can discover which way Glinda has gone.”
“Very well,” returned the Gump, quietly; and it spread its great wings and mounted high into the air.
Far away, across the meadows, they could now see two tiny specks, speeding one after the other; and they knew these specks must be the Griffin and the Saw-Horse. So Tip called the Gump’s attention to them and bade the creature try to overtake the Witch and the Sorceress. But, swift as was the Gump’s flight, the pursued and pursuer moved more swiftly yet, and within a 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 must both come to a halt.”
Old Mombi had thought herself very wise to choose the form of a Griffin, for its legs were exceedingly fleet and its strength more enduring than that of other animals. But she had not reckoned on the untiring energy of the Saw-Horse, whose wooden limbs could run for days without slacking their speed. Therefore, after an hour’s hard running, the Griffin’s breath began to 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 Griffin fell forward, completely exhausted, and lay still upon the desert waste.
Glinda came up a moment later, riding the still vigorous Saw-Horse; and having unwound a slender golden thread from her girdle the Sorceress threw it over the head of the panting and helpless Griffin, and so destroyed the magical power of Mombi’s transformation.
For the animal, with one fierce shudder, disappeared from view, while in its place was discovered the form of the old Witch, glaring savagely at the serene and beautiful face of the Sorceress.
Princess Ozma of Oz
“You are my prisoner, and it is useless for you to struggle any longer,” said Glinda, in her soft, sweet voice. “Lie still a moment, and rest yourself, and then I will carry you back to my tent.”
“Why do you seek me?” asked Mombi, still scarce able to speak plainly for lack of breath. “What have I done to you, to be so persecuted?”
“You have done nothing to me,” answered the gentle Sorceress; “but I suspect you have been guilty of several wicked actions; and if I find it is true that you have so abused your knowledge of magic, I intend to punish you severely.”
“I defy you!” croaked the old hag. “You dare not harm me!”
Just then the Gump flew up to them and alighted upon the desert sands beside Glinda. Our friends were delighted to find that Mombi had finally been captured, and after a hurried consultation it was decided they should all return to the camp in the Gump. So the Saw-Horse was tossed aboard, and then Glinda still holding an end of the golden thread that was around Mombi’s neck, forced her prisoner to climb into the sofas. The others now followed, and Tip gave the word to the Gump to return.
The Journey was made in safety, Mombi sitting in her place with a grim and sullen air; for the old hag was absolutely helpless so long as the magical thread encircled her throat. The army hailed Glinda’s return with loud cheers, and the party of friends soon gathered again in the royal tent, which had been neatly repaired during their absence.
“Now,” said the Sorceress to Mombi, “I want you to tell us why the Wonderful Wizard of Oz paid you three visits, and what became of the child, 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 spoil everything with your foolishness.”
“Very well, dear father!” returned the Pumpkinhead, meekly.
“How glad I am to be a Woggle-Bug!” murmured the Highly Magnified Insect, softly. “No one can expect wisdom to flow from a pumpkin.”
“Well,” said the Scarecrow, “what shall we do to make Mombi speak? Unless she tells us what we wish to know her capture will do us no good at all.”
“Suppose we try kindness,” suggested the Tin Woodman. “I’ve heard that anyone can be conquered with kindness, no matter how ugly they may be.”
At this the Witch turned to glare upon him so horribly that the Tin Woodman shrank back abashed.
Glinda had been carefully considering what to do, and now she turned to Mombi and said:
“You will gain nothing, I assure you, by thus defying us. For I am determined to learn the truth about the girl Ozma, and unless you tell me all that you know, I will certainly put you to death.”
“Oh, no! Don’t do that!” exclaimed the Tin Woodman. “It would be an awful thing to kill anyone—even old Mombi!”
“But it is merely a threat,” returned Glinda. “I shall not put 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 with me then?”
“In that case,” replied Glinda, “I shall merely ask you to drink a powerful draught which will cause you to forget all the magic you have ever 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 that it’s a good thing to be alive.”
“Especially if one happens to be Thoroughly Educated,” added the Woggle-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 powers if 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 have chosen wisely, I assure you.”
She then motioned to one of her Captains, who brought her a beautiful golden casket. From this the Sorceress drew an immense white pearl, attached to a slender chain which she placed around her neck in such a way that the pearl rested upon her bosom, directly over her heart.
“Now,” said she, “I will ask my first question: Why did the Wizard pay you three visits?”
“Because I would not come to him,” answered Mombi.
“That is no answer,” said Glinda, sternly. “Tell me the truth.”
“Well,” returned Mombi, with downcast eyes, “he visited me to learn 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 of wonder.
“Then you have told me a falsehood!” cried Glinda, angrily. “Only when the truth is spoken will my magic pearl remain a pure white in color.”
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 a baby, and begged me to conceal the child.”
“That is what I thought,” declared Glinda, calmly. “What did he give you for thus serving him?”
“He taught me all the magical tricks he knew. Some were good tricks, and some were only frauds; but I have remained faithful to my promise.”
“What did you do with the girl?” asked Glinda; and at this question everyone 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 this old woman had reared Tip from childhood, all eyes were turned to where the boy stood.
“Yes,” said the old Witch, nodding her head; “that is the Princess Ozma—the child brought to me by the Wizard who stole her father’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 Princess Ozma—I’m not a girl!”
Glinda smiled, and going to Tip she took his small brown hand within her dainty white one.
“You are not a girl just now” said she, gently, “because Mombi transformed you into a boy. But you were born a girl, and also a Princess; so you must resume your proper form, that you may become Queen of the Emerald 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—and the Gump! I don’t want to be a girl!”
“Never mind, old chap,” said the Tin Woodman, soothingly; “it don’t hurt to be a girl, I’m told; and we will all remain your faithful friends just the same. And, to be honest with you, I’ve always considered girls nicer than boys.”
“They’re just as nice, anyway,” added the Scarecrow, patting Tip 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 girl again.”
“But—see here!” said Jack Pumpkinhead, with a gasp: “if you become a girl, you can’t be my dear father any more!”
“No,” answered Tip, laughing in spite of his anxiety. “and I shall not be sorry to escape the relationship.” Then he added, hesitatingly, as he turned to Glinda: “I might try it for awhile,-just to see how it seems, you know. But if I don’t like being a girl you must promise to change me into a boy again.”
“Really,” said the Sorceress, “that is beyond my magic. I never deal in transformations, for they are not honest, and no respectable sorceress likes to make things appear to be what they are not. Only unscrupulous witches use the art, and therefore I must ask Mombi to effect your release from her charm, and restore you to your proper form. It will be the last opportunity she will have to practice magic.”
Now that the truth about Princes Ozma had been discovered, Mombi did not care what became of Tip; but she feared Glinda’s anger, and the boy generously promised to provide for Mombi in her old age if he became the ruler of the Emerald City. So the Witch consented to effect the transformation, and preparations for the event were at once made.
Glinda ordered her own royal couch to be placed in the center of the tent. It was piled high with cushions covered with rose-colored silk, and from a golden railing above hung many folds of pink gossamer, completely concealing the interior of the couch.
The first act of the Witch was to make the boy drink a potion which quickly sent him into a deep and dreamless sleep. Then the Tin Woodman and the Woggle-Bug bore him gently to the couch, placed him upon the soft cushions, and drew 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 old Mombi scattered a handful of magical powder over the fire, which straightway gave off a rich violet vapor, filling all the tent with its fragrance and forcing the Saw-Horse to sneeze—although he had been warned to keep quiet.
Then, while the others watched her curiously, the hag chanted a rhythmical verse in words which no one understood, and bent her lean body seven times back and forth over the fire. And now the incantation seemed complete, for the Witch stood upright and cried the one word “Yeowa!” in a loud voice.
The vapor floated away; the atmosphere became, clear again; a whiff of fresh air filled the tent, and the pink curtains of the couch trembled slightly, as if stirred from within.
Glinda walked to the canopy and parted the silken hangings. Then she bent over the cushions, reached out her hand, and from the couch arose the form of a young girl, fresh and beautiful as a May morning. Her eyes sparkled as two diamonds, and her lips were tinted like a tourmaline. All adown her back floated tresses of ruddy gold, with a slender jeweled circlet confining them at the brow. Her robes of silken gauze floated around her like a cloud, and dainty satin slippers shod her feet.
At this exquisite vision Tip’s old comrades stared in wonder for the space of a full minute, and then every head bent low in honest admiration of the lovely Princess Ozma. The girl herself cast one look into Glinda’s bright face, which glowed with pleasure and satisfaction, and then turned upon the others. Speaking the words with sweet diffidence, she said:
“I hope none of you will care less for me than you did before. I’m just the same Tip, you know; only—only—”
“Only you’re different!” said the Pumpkinhead; and everyone thought 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 the Witch had been captured; how she had confessed her crime to Glinda; and how the long-lost Princess Ozma had been discovered in no less a personage than the boy Tip—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 butter again! 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 palace kitchens, counseled Jinjur to resist, she listened to their foolish prattle and sent a sharp defiance to Glinda the Good and the Princess Ozma. The result was a declaration of war, and the very next day Glinda marched upon the Emerald City 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; for Jinjur had closed and barred every gateway, and the walls of the Emerald City were builded high and thick with many blocks of green marble. Finding her advance thus baffled, Glinda bent her brows in deep thought, while the Woggle-Bug said, in his most positive tone:
“We must lay siege to the city, and starve it into submission. It is the only 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 bright smile.
“You are right,” she exclaimed, “and certainly have reason to be 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, near the Scarecrow’s tent, where the Gump lay. Glinda and Princess Ozma mounted first, and sat upon the sofas. Then the Scarecrow and his friends climbed 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 Gump flopped its palm-leaf wings and rose into the air, carrying the party of adventurers high above the walls. They hovered over the palace, and soon perceived Jinjur reclining in a hammock in the courtyard, where she was comfortably reading a novel with a green cover and eating green chocolates, confident that the walls would protect her from her enemies. Obeying a quick command, the Gump alighted safely in this very courtyard, and before Jinjur had time to do more than scream, the Captain and three soldiers leaped out and made the 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 they knew Jinjur to be a captive, and the Captain marched in safety through the streets and up to the gates of the city, which she threw wide open. Then the bands played their most stirring music while Glinda’s army marched into the city, and heralds proclaimed the conquest of the audacious Jinjur and the accession 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 that the women were so tired eating of their husbands’ cooking that they all hailed the conquest of Jinjur with Joy. Certain it is that, rushing one and all to the kitchens of their houses, the good wives prepared so delicious a feast for 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 every emerald or other gem stolen from the public streets and buildings; and so great was the number of precious stones picked from their settings by these vain girls, that every one of the royal jewelers worked steadily for more than a month to replace them in their settings.
Meanwhile the Army of Revolt was disbanded and the girls sent home to their mothers. On promise of good behavior Jinjur was likewise released.
Ozma made the loveliest Queen the Emerald City had ever known; and, although she was so young and inexperienced, she ruled her people with wisdom and Justice. 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 helpful to Ozma when her royal duties grew perplexing.
The girl, in her gratitude to the Gump for its services, offered the creature any reward it might name.
“Then,” replied the Gump, “please take me to pieces. I did not wish to be brought to life, and I am greatly ashamed of my conglomerate personality. Once I was a monarch of the forest, as my antlers fully prove; but now, in my present upholstered condition of servitude, I am compelled to fly through the air—my legs being of no use to me whatever. Therefore I beg to be dispersed.”
So Ozma ordered the Gump taken apart. The antlered head was again hung over the mantle-piece in the hall, and the sofas were untied and placed in the reception parlors. The broom tail resumed its accustomed duties in the kitchen, and finally, the Scarecrow replaced all the clotheslines and ropes on the pegs from which 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 a flying-machine. But the head over the mantle-piece continued to talk whenever it took a notion to do so, and it frequently startled, with its abrupt questions, 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 the tinkle of these golden shoes upon the pavement always filled the Queen’s subjects with awe as they thought upon this evidence of her magical powers.
“The Wonderful Wizard was never so wonderful as Queen Ozma,” the people said to one another, in whispers; “for he claimed to do many things he could not do; whereas our new Queen does many things no one would ever expect her to accomplish.”
Jack Pumpkinhead remained with Ozma to the end of his days; and he did not spoil 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 so poor a student that any attempt to educate him was soon abandoned.
After Glinda’s army had marched back home, and peace was restored to the Emerald City, the Tin Woodman announced his intention to return to his own Kingdom of the Winkies.
“It isn’t a very big Kingdom,” said he to Ozma, “but for that very reason it is easier to rule; and I have called myself an Emperor because I am an Absolute Monarch, and no one interferes in any way with my conduct of public or personal affairs. When I get home I shall have a new coat of nickel plate; for I have become somewhat marred and scratched lately; and then I shall be glad to have you pay me a visit.”
“Thank you,” replied Ozma. “Some day I may accept the invitation. But what is to become of the Scarecrow?”
“I shall return with my friend the Tin Woodman,” said the stuffed one, seriously. “We have decided never to be parted in the future.”
“And I have made the Scarecrow my Royal Treasurer,” explained the Tin Woodman. “For it has occurred to me that it is a good thing to have a Royal Treasurer who is made of money. What do you think?”
“I think,” said the little Queen, smiling, “that your friend must be the richest man in all the world.”
“I am,” returned the Scarecrow. “but not on account of my money. For I consider brains far superior to money, in every way. You may have noticed 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 comfortably to the end of his days.”
“At the same time,” declared the Tin Woodman, “you must acknowledge that a good heart is a thing that brains can not create, and that money can not buy. Perhaps, after all, it is I who am the richest man in all the world.”
“You are both rich, my friends,” said Ozma, gently; “and your riches are the only riches worth having—the riches of content!”
