Oz, The Complete Collection

by L. Frank Baum

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

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

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

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

  “The first thing required for the machine,” said he, “is a body big enough to carry the entire party. This sofa is the biggest thing we have, 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 another one 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 Sawhorse managed, with much labor, to get the second sofa to the roof; and when the two were placed together, edge to edge, the backs and ends formed a protecting rampart all around the seats.

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

  The two sofas were now bound firmly together with ropes and clothes-lines, and then 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 it critically, 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, we are not in a position to be very particular.”

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

  Said the Wogglebug, 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 my broom?”

  “What for?” asked the Scarecrow.

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

  “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 the Thing is to carry us through the air.”

  “Perhaps, after the Thing is brought to life, it can use a tail to steer with,” suggested the Scarecrow. “For if it flies through the air it will 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 a tail,” 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 not sure there is enough powder left to bring all of it to life. But I’ll make it go as far as possible.”

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

  “And don’t forget the head!” exclaimed the Wogglebug.

  “Or the tail!” added Jack Pumpkinhead.

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

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

  “The head! The head! Don’t, I beg of you, forget the head!” cried the Wogglebug, 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 bring the legs of the sofas to life than the head.”

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

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

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

  Having heard old Mombi pronounce the magic words, and having also succeeded in bringing the Sawhorse to life, Tip did not hesitate an instant in speaking the three 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 then the four wings began flopping furiously.

  Tip managed to grasp a chimney, else he would have been blown off the roof by the 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 by one leg and held him fast. The Wogglebug lay flat upon the roof and so escaped harm, and the Tin Woodman, whose weight of tin anchored him firmly, threw both arms around Jack Pumpkinhead and managed to save him. The Sawhorse toppled over upon his back and lay with his legs waving helplessly above him.

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

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

  It was now that the wisdom of the Scarecrow, in bringing the head of the Thing to life instead of the legs, was proved beyond a doubt. For the Gump, already high in the air, turned its head at Tip’s command and gradually circled around 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 air until the Thing had settled once more upon the roof and become still.

  Chapter 18

  In the JACKDAWS’ NEST

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Certainly,” answered the Gump. “I greatly prefer to navigate the 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 you over, my masters, none of you seems to be constructed much more artistically than I am.”

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

  “Indeed!” murmured the Gump, indifferently.

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

  “How strange!” remarked the Gump.

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

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

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

  “Semper idem,” explained the Wogglebug, pompously; and the Gump turned to stare at him.

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

  “I am proud, indeed, to meet with such exceptional masters,” said the Gump, in a careless tone. “If I could but secure so complete an introduction 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 has taken us, who are your elders, months to perfect. But now,” he added, turning to the others, “let us get aboard and start upon our journey.”

  “Where shall we go?” asked Tip, as he clambered to a seat on the sofas and assisted the Pumpkinhead to follow him.

  “In the South Country rules a very delightful Queen called Glinda the Good, who I am sure will gladly receive us,” said the Scarecrow, getting into the Thing clumsily. “Let us go to her and ask her advice.”

  “That is cleverly thought of,” declared Nick Chopper, giving the Wogglebug a boost and then toppling the Sawhorse into the rear end of the cushioned seats. “I know Glinda the Good, and believe she will prove a friend indeed.”

  “Are we all ready?” asked the boy.

  “Yes,” announced the Tin Woodman, seating himself beside the Scarecrow.

  “Then,” said Tip, addressing the Gump, “be kind enough to fly with us southward; and do not go higher than to escape the houses and trees, 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, while our little band of adventurers clung to the backs and sides of the sofas for support, the Gump turned toward the south and soared swiftly and majestically away.

  “The scenic effect, from this altitude, is marvelous,” commented the educated Wogglebug, 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 on the horizon. “Perhaps we should have waited until morning. I wonder if the 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 that carried me swiftly over the ground. But now my legs feel as if they were asleep.”

  “They are,” said Tip. “We didn’t bring ’em to life.”

  “You’re expected to fly,” explained the Scarecrow; “not to walk.”

  “We can walk ourselves,” said the Wogglebug.

  “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 in silence.

  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,” answered the Wogglebug. “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?” demanded Tip, looking at the Wogglebug with a severe expression.

  “You have; and I’ve restrained a good many of them,” replied the insect. “But there are opportunities for so many excellent puns in our language that, to an educated person like myself, the temptation to express them is almost irresistible.”

  “People with more or less education discovered those puns centuries ago,” said Tip.

  “Are you sure?” asked the Wogglebug, with a startled look.

  “Of course I am,” answered the boy. “An educated Wogglebug may be a new thing; but a Wogglebug education is as old as the hills, judging from the display you make of it.”

  The insect seemed much impressed by this remark, and for a time maintained a meek silence.

  The Scarecrow, in shifting his seat, saw upon the cushions the pepper-box which Tip had cast aside, and began to examine it.

  “Throw it overboard,” said the boy; “it’s quite empty now, and there’s no use keeping it.”

  “Is it really empty?” asked the Scarecrow, looking curiously into the box.

  “Of course it is,” answered Tip. “I shook out every grain of the powder.”

  “Then the box has two bottoms,” announced the Scarecrow, “for the bottom on the inside is fully an inch away from the bottom on the outside.”

  “Let me see,” said the Tin Woodman, taking the box from his friend. “Yes,” he declared, after looking it over, “the thing certainly has a false bottom. Now, I wonder what that is for?”

  “Can’t you get it apart, and find out?” enquired Tip, now quite 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 the bottom. And in the cavity below were three silver pills, with a carefully folded paper lying underneath them.

  This paper the boy proceeded to unfold, taking care not to spill the pills, and found 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 of great use to us. I wonder if old Mombi knew they were in the bottom of the pepper-box. I remember hearing her say that she got the Powder of Life from this 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 the pills.”

  “But how,” asked the Scarecrow, “can anyone count seventeen by twos? Seventeen is an odd number.”

  “That is true,” replied Tip, greatly disappointed. “No one can 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 that my head would never spoil.”

  “Nonsense!” said the Scarecrow, sharply. “If we could use the pills 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 my anxiety.”

  “For my part,” said the Tin Woodman, “I sympathize with you in ever
y respect. But since we cannot count seventeen by twos, sympathy is all you are liable to get.”

  By this time it had become quite dark, and the voyagers found above them a cloudy 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 more and more dizzily every hour.

  The Wogglebug declared he was sea-sick; and Tip was also pale and somewhat distressed. But the others clung to the backs of the sofas and did not seem to mind 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 black heavens. The travelers could not even see one another, and an oppressive silence 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 palace of Glinda the Good?” he asked.

  “It’s a long way to Glinda’s palace,” answered the Woodman; “I’ve traveled it.”

  “But how are we to know how fast the Gump is flying?” persisted the boy. “We cannot see a single thing down on the earth, and before morning we may be far beyond the place we want to reach.”

  “That is all true enough,” the Scarecrow replied, a little uneasily. “But I do not see how we can stop just now; for we might alight in a river, or on the top of a steeple; and that would be a great disaster.”

  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 first streaks of grey dawn they looked over the sides of the sofas and discovered rolling plains dotted with queer villages, where the houses, instead of being dome-shaped—as they all are in the Land of Oz—had slanting roofs that rose to a peak in the center. Odd looking animals were also moving about upon the open plains, and the country was unfamiliar to both the Tin Woodman and the Scarecrow, who had formerly visited Glinda the Good’s domain and knew it well.

  “We are lost!” said the Scarecrow, dolefully. “The Gump must have carried us entirely out of the Land of Oz and over the sandy deserts and into the terrible outside world that Dorothy told us about.”