Oz, The Complete Collection

by L. Frank Baum

  The girl seemed neither older nor larger than Dorothy herself, and at once the prisoner in the tower guessed that the lovely driver of the chariot must be that Ozma of Oz of whom she had so lately heard from Tik-Tok.

  Following close behind the chariot Dorothy saw her old friend the Scarecrow, riding calmly astride a wooden Sawhorse, which pranced and trotted as naturally as any meat horse could have done.

  And then came Nick Chopper, the Tin Woodman, with his funnel-shaped cap tipped carelessly over his left ear, his gleaming axe over his right shoulder, and his whole body sparkling as brightly as it had ever done in the old days when first she knew him.

  The Tin Woodman was on foot, marching at the head of a company of twenty-seven soldiers, of whom some were lean and some fat, some short and some tall; but all the twenty-seven were dressed in handsome uniforms of various designs and colors, no two being alike in any respect.

  Behind the soldiers the green carpet rolled itself up again, so that there was always just enough of it for the procession to walk upon, in order that their feet might not come in contact with the deadly, life-destroying sands of the desert.

  Dorothy knew at once it was a magic carpet she beheld, and her heart beat high with hope and joy as she realized she was soon to be rescued and allowed to greet her dearly beloved friends of Oz—the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodman and the Cowardly Lion.

  Indeed, the girl felt herself as good as rescued as soon as she recognized those in the procession, for she well knew the courage and loyalty of her old comrades, and also believed that any others who came from their marvelous country would prove to be pleasant and reliable acquaintances.

  As soon as the last bit of desert was passed and all the procession, from the beautiful and dainty Ozma to the last soldier, had reached the grassy meadows of the Land of Ev, the magic carpet rolled itself together and entirely disappeared.

  Then the chariot driver turned her Lion and Tiger onto a broad roadway leading up to the palace, and the others followed, while Dorothy still gazed from her tower window in eager excitement.

  They came quite close to the front door of the palace and then halted, the Scarecrow dismounting from his Sawhorse to approach the sign fastened to the door, that he might read what it said.

  Dorothy, just above him, could keep silent no longer.

  “Here I am!” she shouted, as loudly as she could. “Here’s Dorothy!”

  “Dorothy who?” asked the Scarecrow, tipping his head to look upward until he nearly lost his balance and tumbled over backward.

  “Dorothy Gale, of course. Your friend from Kansas,” she answered.

  “Why, hello, Dorothy!” said the Scarecrow. “What in the world are you doing up there?”

  “Nothing,” she called down, “because there’s nothing to do. Save me, my friend—save me!”

  “You seem to be quite safe now,” replied the Scarecrow.

  “But I’m a prisoner. I’m locked in, so that I can’t get out,” she pleaded.

  “That’s all right,” said the Scarecrow. “You might be worse off, little Dorothy. Just consider the matter. You can’t get drowned, or be run over by a Wheeler, or fall out of an apple-tree. Some folks would think they were lucky to be up there.”

  “Well, I don’t,” declared the girl, “and I want to get down immed’i’tly and see you and the Tin Woodman and the Cowardly Lion.”

  “Very well,” said the Scarecrow, nodding. “It shall be just as you say, little friend. Who locked you up?”

  “The princess Langwidere, who is a horrid creature,” she answered.

  At this Ozma, who had been listening carefully to the conversation, called to Dorothy from her chariot, asking:

  “Why did the Princess lock you up, my dear?”

  “Because,” exclaimed Dorothy, “I wouldn’t let her have my head for her collection, and take an old, cast-off head in exchange for it.”

  “I do not blame you,” exclaimed Ozma, promptly. “I will see the Princess at once, and oblige her to liberate you.”

  “Oh, thank you very, very much!” cried Dorothy, who as soon as she heard the sweet voice of the girlish Ruler of Oz knew that she would soon learn to love her dearly.

  Ozma now drove her chariot around to the third door of the wing, upon which the Tin Woodman boldly proceeded to knock.

  As soon as the maid opened the door Ozma, bearing in her hand her ivory wand, stepped into the hall and made her way at once to the drawing-room, followed by all her company, except the Lion and the Tiger. And the twenty-seven soldiers made such a noise and a clatter that the little maid Nanda ran away screaming to her mistress, whereupon the Princess Langwidere, roused to great anger by this rude invasion of her palace, came running into the drawing-room without any assistance whatever.

  There she stood before the slight and delicate form of the little girl from Oz and cried out:

  “How dare you enter my palace unbidden? Leave this room at once, or I will bind you and all your people in chains, and throw you into my darkest dungeons!”

  “What a dangerous lady!” murmured the Scarecrow, in a soft voice.

  “She seems a little nervous,” replied the Tin Woodman.

  But Ozma only smiled at the angry Princess.

  “Sit down, please,” she said, quietly. “I have traveled a long way to see you, and you must listen to what I have to say.”

  “Must!” screamed the Princess, her black eyes flashing with fury—for she still wore her No. 17 head. “Must, to me!”

  “To be sure,” said Ozma. “I am Ruler of the Land of Oz, and I am powerful enough to destroy all your kingdom, if I so wish. Yet I did not come here to do harm, but rather to free the royal family of Ev from the thrall of the Nome King, the news having reached me that he is holding the Queen and her children prisoners.”

  Hearing these words, Langwidere suddenly became quiet.

  “I wish you could, indeed, free my aunt and her ten royal children,” said she, eagerly. “For if they were restored to their proper forms and station they could rule the Kingdom of Ev themselves, and that would save me a lot of worry and trouble. At present there are at least ten minutes every day that I must devote to affairs of state, and I would like to be able to spend my whole time in admiring my beautiful heads.”

  “Then we will presently discuss this matter,” said Ozma, “and try to find a way to liberate your aunt and cousins. But first you must liberate another prisoner—the little girl you have locked up in your tower.”

  “Of course,” said Langwidere, readily. “I had forgotten all about her. That was yesterday, you know, and a Princess cannot be expected to remember today what she did yesterday. Come with me, and I will release the prisoner at once.”

  So Ozma followed her, and they passed up the stairs that led to the room in the tower.

  While they were gone Ozma’s followers remained in the drawing-room, and the Scarecrow was leaning against a form that he had mistaken for a copper statue when a harsh, metallic voice said suddenly in his ear:

  “Get off my foot, please. You are scratch-ing my pol-ish.”

  “Oh, excuse me!” he replied, hastily drawing back. “Are you alive?”

  “No,” said Tik-Tok, “I am on-ly a ma-chine. But I can think and speak and act, when I am pro-per-ly wound up. Just now my ac-tion is run down, and Dor-o-thy has the key to it.”

  “That’s all right,” replied the Scarecrow. “Dorothy will soon be free, and then she’ll attend to your works. But it must be a great misfortune not to be alive. I’m sorry for you.”

  “Why?” asked Tik-Tok.

  “Because you have no brains, as I have,” said the Scarecrow.

  “Oh, yes, I have,” returned Tik-Tok. “I am fit-ted with Smith & Tin-ker’s Im-proved Com-bi-na-tion Steel Brains. They are what make me think. What sort of brains are you fit-ted with?”

  “I don’t know,” admitted the Scarecrow. “They were given to me by the great Wizard of Oz, and I didn’t get a chance to examine them before he
put them in. But they work splendidly and my conscience is very active. Have you a conscience?”

  “No,” said Tik-Tok.

  “And no heart, I suppose?” added the Tin Woodman, who had been listening with interest to this conversation.

  “No,” said Tik-Tok.

  “Then,” continued the Tin Woodman, “I regret to say that you are greatly inferior to my friend the Scarecrow, and to myself. For we are both alive, and he has brains which do not need to be wound up, while I have an excellent heart that is continually beating in my bosom.”

  “I con-grat-u-late you,” replied Tik-Tok. “I can-not help be-ing your in-fer-i-or for I am a mere ma-chine. When I am wound up I do my du-ty by go-ing just as my ma-chin-er-y is made to go. You have no i-de-a how full of ma-chin-er-y I am.”

  “I can guess,” said the Scarecrow, looking at the machine man curiously. “Some day I’d like to take you apart and see just how you are made.”

  “Do not do that, I beg of you,” said Tik-Tok; “for you could not put me to-geth-er a-gain, and my use-ful-ness would be de-stroyed.”

  “Oh! are you useful?” asked the Scarecrow, surprised.

  “Ve-ry,” said Tik-Tok.

  “In that case,” the Scarecrow kindly promised, “I won’t fool with your interior at all. For I am a poor mechanic, and might mix you up.”

  “Thank you,” said Tik-Tok.

  Just then Ozma re-entered the room, leading Dorothy by the hand and followed closely by the Princess Langwidere.

  Chapter 8

  The HUNGRY TIGER

  he first thing Dorothy did was to rush into the embrace of the Scarecrow, whose painted face beamed with delight as he pressed her form to his straw-padded bosom. Then the Tin Woodman embraced her—very gently, for he knew his tin arms might hurt her if he squeezed too roughly.

  These greetings having been exchanged, Dorothy took the key to Tik-Tok from her pocket and wound up the machine man’s action, so that he could bow properly when introduced to the rest of the company. While doing this she told them how useful Tik-Tok had been to her, and both the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman shook hands with the machine once more and thanked him for protecting their friend.

  Then Dorothy asked: “Where is Billina?”

  “I don’t know,” said the Scarecrow. “Who is Billina?”

  “She’s a yellow hen who is another friend of mine,” answered the girl, anxiously. “I wonder what has become of her?”

  “She is in the chicken house, in the back yard,” said the Princess. “My drawing-room is no place for hens.”

  Without waiting to hear more Dorothy ran to get Billina, and just outside the door she came upon the Cowardly Lion, still hitched to the chariot beside the great Tiger. The Cowardly Lion had a big bow of blue ribbon fastened to the long hair between his ears, and the Tiger wore a bow of red ribbon on his tail, just in front of the bushy end.

  In an instant Dorothy was hugging the huge Lion joyfully.

  “I’m so glad to see you again!” she cried.

  “I am also glad to see you, Dorothy,” said the Lion. “We’ve had some fine adventures together, haven’t we?”

  “Yes, indeed,” she replied. “How are you?”

  “As cowardly as ever,” the beast answered in a meek voice. “Every little thing scares me and makes my heart beat fast. But let me introduce to you a new friend of mine, the Hungry Tiger.”

  “Oh! Are you hungry?” she asked, turning to the other beast, who was just then yawning so widely that he displayed two rows of terrible teeth and a mouth big enough to startle anyone.

  “Dreadfully hungry,” answered the Tiger, snapping his jaws together with a fierce click.

  “Then why don’t you eat something?” she asked.

  “It’s no use,” said the Tiger sadly. “I’ve tried that, but I always get hungry again.”

  “Why, it is the same with me,” said Dorothy. “Yet I keep on eating.”

  “But you eat harmless things, so it doesn’t matter,” replied the Tiger. “For my part, I’m a savage beast, and have an appetite for all sorts of poor little living creatures, from a chipmunk to fat babies.”

  “How dreadful!” said Dorothy.

  “Isn’t it, though?” returned the Hungry Tiger, licking his lips with his long red tongue. “Fat babies! Don’t they sound delicious? But I’ve never eaten any, because my conscience tells me it is wrong. If I had no conscience I would probably eat the babies and then get hungry again, which would mean that I had sacrificed the poor babies for nothing. No; hungry I was born, and hungry I shall die. But I’ll not have any cruel deeds on my conscience to be sorry for.”

  “I think you are a very good tiger,” said Dorothy, patting the huge head of the beast.

  “In that you are mistaken,” was the reply. “I am a good beast, perhaps, but a disgracefully bad tiger. For it is the nature of tigers to be cruel and ferocious, and in refusing to eat harmless living creatures I am acting as no good tiger has ever before acted. That is why I left the forest and joined my friend the Cowardly Lion.”

  “But the Lion is not really cowardly,” said Dorothy. “I have seen him act as bravely as can be.”

  “All a mistake, my dear,” protested the Lion gravely. “To others I may have seemed brave, at times, but I have never been in any danger that I was not afraid.”

  “Nor I,” said Dorothy, truthfully. “But I must go and set free Billina, and then I will see you again.”

  She ran around to the back yard of the palace and soon found the chicken house, being guided to it by a loud cackling and crowing and a distracting hubbub of sounds such as chickens make when they are excited.

  Something seemed to be wrong in the chicken house, and when Dorothy looked through the slats in the door she saw a group of hens and roosters huddled in one corner and watching what appeared to be a whirling ball of feathers. It bounded here and there about the chicken house, and at first Dorothy could not tell what it was, while the screeching of the chickens nearly deafened her.

  But suddenly the bunch of feathers stopped whirling, and then, to her amazement, the girl saw Billina crouching upon the prostrate form of a speckled rooster. For an instant they both remained motionless, and then the yellow hen shook her wings to settle the feathers and walked toward the door with a strut of proud defiance and a cluck of victory, while the speckled rooster limped away to the group of other chickens, trailing his crumpled plumage in the dust as he went.

  “Why, Billina!” cried Dorothy, in a shocked voice; “have you been fighting?”

  “I really think I have,” retorted Billina. “Do you think I’d let that speckled villain of a rooster lord it over me, and claim to run this chicken house, as long as I’m able to peck and scratch? Not if my name is Bill!”

  “It isn’t Bill, it’s Billina; and you’re talking slang, which is very undig’n’fied,” said Dorothy, reprovingly. “Come here, Billina, and I’ll let you out; for Ozma of Oz is here, and has set us free.”

  So the yellow hen came to the door, which Dorothy unlatched for her to pass through, and the other chickens silently watched them from their corner without offering to approach nearer.

  The girl lifted her friend in her arms and exclaimed:

  “Oh, Billina! how dreadful you look. You’ve lost a lot of feathers, and one of your eyes is nearly pecked out, and your comb is bleeding!”

  “That’s nothing,” said Billina. “Just look at the speckled rooster! Didn’t I do him up brown?”

  Dorothy shook her head.

  “I don’t ’prove of this, at all,” she said, carrying Billina away toward the palace. “It isn’t a good thing for you to ’sociate with those common chickens. They would soon spoil your good manners, and you wouldn’t be respec’able any more.”

  “I didn’t ask to associate with them,” replied Billina. “It is that cross old Princess who is to blame. But I was raised in the United States, and I won’t allow any one-horse chicken of the Land of Ev to run over me and put on
airs, as long as I can lift a claw in self-defense.”

  “Very well, Billina,” said Dorothy. “We won’t talk about it any more.”

  Soon they came to the Cowardly Lion and the Hungry Tiger to whom the girl introduced the Yellow Hen.

  “Glad to meet any friend of Dorothy’s,” said the Lion, politely. “To judge by your present appearance, you are not a coward, as I am.”

  “Your present appearance makes my mouth water,” said the Tiger, looking at Billina greedily. “My, my! how good you would taste if I could only crunch you between my jaws. But don’t worry. You would only appease my appetite for a moment; so it isn’t worth while to eat you.”

  “Thank you,” said the hen, nestling closer in Dorothy’s arms.

  “Besides, it wouldn’t be right,” continued the Tiger, looking steadily at Billina and clicking his jaws together.

  “Of course not,” cried Dorothy, hastily. “Billina is my friend, and you mustn’t ever eat her under any circ’mstances.”

  “I’ll try to remember that,” said the Tiger; “but I’m a little absent-minded, at times.”

  Then Dorothy carried her pet into the drawing-room of the palace, where Tik-Tok, being invited to do so by Ozma, had seated himself between the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman. Opposite to them sat Ozma herself and the Princess Langwidere, and beside them there was a vacant chair for Dorothy.

  Around this important group was ranged the Army of Oz, and as Dorothy looked at the handsome uniforms of the Twenty-Seven she said:

  “Why, they seem to be all officers.”

  “They are, all except one,” answered the Tin Woodman. “I have in my army eight Generals, six Colonels, seven Majors and five Captains, besides one private for them to command. I’d like to promote the private, for I believe no private should ever be in public life; and I’ve also noticed that officers usually fight better and are more reliable than common soldiers. Besides, the officers are more important looking, and lend dignity to our army.”