Oz, The Complete Collection

by L. Frank Baum

  “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 was gone, the people of the Emerald City made his Majesty, the Scarecrow, their King; 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 have something better to do.”

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

  Chapter 4

  TIP MAKES an EXPERIMENT in MAGIC

  he boy, small and rather delicate in appearance, seemed somewhat embarrassed at being called “father” by the tall, awkward, pumpkinheaded man; but to deny the relationship would involve another long and tedious explanation; so he changed the subject by asking, abruptly:

  “Are you tired?”

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

  Tip reflected, as they journeyed on, that this was true. He began to regret that 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 old Mombi with would be brought to life by means of a magical powder contained in an old pepper-box?

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

  While thus engaged they came to the edge of a wood, and the boy sat down to rest 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 usual they gave way altogether, and he came clattering to the ground with such a crash that Tip feared he was entirely ruined.

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

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

  “Very well, dear father; just as you say,” replied the smiling Jack, who had been in no way 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 has four legs and a head and a tail. And people ride upon its back.”

  “I understand,” said Jack, cheerfully. “That’s the kind of 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.”

  Tip looked at the sawhorse more carefully, and found that the Pumpkinhead was right. The body had been formed from a tree-trunk, and a branch had been left sticking up at one end that looked very much like a tail. In the other end were two big knots that resembled eyes, and a place had been chopped away that might easily be mistaken for the horse’s mouth. As for the legs, they were four straight limbs cut from trees and stuck fast into the body, being spread wide apart so that the sawhorse would stand firmly when a log was laid across it to be 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 and eats oats, while this is nothing more than a dead horse, made of wood, and used to saw logs upon.”

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

  “It would trot and prance, perhaps; but it wouldn’t eat oats,” replied the boy, laughing at the idea. “And of course it can’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 that brought 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 the sawhorse to life.”

  “If it would,” returned Jack, calmly—for nothing seemed to surprise him—“I could ride on its back, and that would save my joints from wearing out.”

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

  He thought it over for a minute, and as he had watched carefully from the hedge every motion of the old Witch, and listened to her words, he believed he could repeat exactly what she had said and done.

  So he began by sprinkling some of the magic Powder of Life from the pepper-box upon the body of the sawhorse. Then he lifted his left hand, with the little finger 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 being interrupted at so important a moment.

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

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

  Immediately the sawhorse moved, stretched its legs, yawned with its chopped-out mouth, and shook a few grains of the powder off its back. The rest of 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!”

  Chapter 5

  The AWAKENING of the SAWHORSE

  he Sawhorse, finding himself alive, seemed even more astonished than Tip. He rolled his knotty eyes from side to side, taking a first wondering view of the world in which he had now so important an existence. Then he tried to look at himself; but he had, indeed, no neck to turn; so that in the endeavor to see his body he kept circling around and around, without catching even a glimpse of it. His legs were stiff and awkward, for there were no knee-joints in them; so that presently he bumped against Jack Pumpkinhead and sent that personage tumbling upon the moss that lined the roadside.

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

  “Whoa! Whoa, there!”

  The Sawhorse paid no attention whatever to this command, and the next instant brought one of his wooden legs down upon Tip’s foot so forcibly that the boy 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 at the Sawhorse 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 Sawhorse stopped himself, having concluded it was impossible to see his own body. He saw Tip, however, and came close to the boy to observe him more fully.

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

  Tip patted it upon the head, and said “Good boy! Good boy!” in a coaxing tone; and the Sawhorse pranced away to examine with its bulging eyes the form of Jack Pumpkinhead.

  “I must find a halter for him,” said Tip; and having made a search in his pocket he produced a roll of strong cord. Unwinding this, he approached the Sawhorse and tied the cord around its neck, afterward fastening the other end to a large tree. The Sawhorse, not understanding the action, stepped backward and snapped the string easily; but it made no attempt to run away.

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

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

  “That’s a splendid idea!” said Tip. “How did you happen to 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 to do.”

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

  “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 ears than 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 be anything 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; “but there’s no harm in thinking you understand. I guess these ears are ready 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 held its head while the boy bored two holes in it with his knife-blade and inserted the ears.

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

  But those words, spoken close to the Sawhorse, and being the first sounds he had ever heard, so startled the animal that he made a bound forward and tumbled Tip on one side and Jack on the other. Then he continued to rush forward as if frightened by the clatter of his own footsteps.

  “Whoa!” shouted Tip, picking himself up; “whoa! you idiot—whoa!”

  The Sawhorse would probably have paid no attention to this, but just then it stepped a leg into a gopher-hole and stumbled head-over-heels to the ground, where it lay upon its back, frantically waving its four legs in the air.

  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 Sawhorse, in a surprised 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 if amazed. “What am I doing here, anyway?”

  “Why, I’ve brought you to life,” answered the boy, “but it 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 Sawhorse, humbly. “But what happened to me, a moment ago? I don’t seem to be just right, someway.”

  “You’re upside down,” explained Tip. “But just keep those 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 legs still.”

  The Sawhorse now became quiet, and held its legs rigid; so that Tip, after several 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 careful examination. “I’ll have to make a new one.”

  Then he led the Sawhorse back to where Jack was vainly struggling to regain his feet, and after assisting the Pumpkinhead to stand upright Tip whittled out a new ear and fastened it to the horse’s head.

  “Now,” said he, addressing his steed, “pay attention to what I’m going to tell you. ‘Whoa!’ means to stop; ‘Get-up!’ means to walk forward; ‘Trot!’ means to go as fast 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 his Majesty, the Scarecrow; and Jack Pumpkinhead is going to ride on your back, so he won’t wear out his joints.”

  “I don’t mind,” said the Sawhorse. “Anything that suits you suits me.”

  Then Tip assisted Jack to get upon the horse.

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

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

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

  “Don’t do that!” remonstrated the Sawhorse; “for then I 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 and cut a short length of limb from a young, stout tree. One end of this he sharpened to a point, and then he dug a hole in the back of the Sawhorse, just behind its head. Next he brought a piece of rock from the road and hammered the post firmly into the animal’s back.

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

  “Does it hurt?” asked the boy.

  “Not exactly hurt,” answered the animal; “but it makes me quite 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’t fall 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 he raised his feet from the ground.

  Tip walked beside the Sawhorse, quite content with this addition to their party. Presently he began to whistle.

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

  “Don’t pay any attention to it,” said Tip. “I’m just 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 sadly lacking.”

  After journeying on for some distance the narrow path they were following turned into a broad roadway, paved with yellow brick. By the side of the road Tip 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 the roadside and to resume the journey next morning by daybreak. He led the Sawhorse to a grassy mound upon which grew several bushy trees, and carefully assisted the Pumpkinhead to alight.

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

  “How about me?” asked the Sawhorse.

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

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

  Chapter 6

  JACK PUMPKINHEAD’S RIDE to the EMERALD CITY

  t daybreak Tip was awakened by the Pumpkinhead. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, bathed in a little brook, and then at
e 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 to reach the Emerald City by noon if no accidents happen.”

  So the Pumpkinhead was again perched upon the back of the Sawhorse and the journey was resumed.

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

  The little party had traveled but a short two miles upon their way when the road of yellow brick was parted by a broad and swift river. Tip was puzzled how to cross over; but after a time he discovered a man in a ferry-boat approaching from 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 looked cross 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 the ferryman, decidedly.

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

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

  “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 ride him across. As for the pumpkinheaded loon who accompanies you, let him sink or swim—it won’t matter greatly which.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” said Jack, smiling pleasantly upon the crabby ferryman; “I’m sure I ought to float beautifully.”

  Tip thought the experiment was worth making, and the Sawhorse, who did not know what danger meant, offered no objections whatever. So the boy led it down into the water and climbed upon its back. Jack also waded in up to his knees and grasped the tail of the horse so that he might keep his pumpkin head above the water.