Oz, The Complete Collection

by L. Frank Baum

  In this comical position the two horses circled slowly around each other for a while, each being unable to realize what the singular thing might be which it now beheld for the first time. Then Jim exclaimed:

  “For goodness sake, what sort of a being are you?”

  “I’m a Sawhorse,” replied the other.

  “Oh; I believe I’ve heard of you,” said the cab-horse; “but you are unlike anything that I expected to see.”

  “I do not doubt it,” the Sawhorse observed, with a tone of pride. “I am considered quite unusual.”

  “You are, indeed. But a rickety wooden thing like you has no right to be alive.”

  “I couldn’t help it,” returned the other, rather crestfallen. “Ozma sprinkled me with a magic powder, and I just had to live. I know I’m not much account; but I’m the only horse in all the Land of Oz, so they treat me with great respect.”

  “You, a horse!”

  “Oh, not a real one, of course. There are no real horses here at all. But I’m a splendid imitation of one.”

  Jim gave an indignant neigh.

  “Look at me!” he cried. “Behold a real horse!”

  The wooden animal gave a start, and then examined the other intently.

  “Is it possible that you are a Real Horse?” he murmured.

  “Not only possible, but true,” replied Jim, who was gratified by the impression he had created. “It is proved by my fine points. For example, look at the long hairs on my tail, with which I can whisk away the flies.”

  “The flies never trouble me,” said the Sawhorse.

  “And notice my great strong teeth, with which I nibble the grass.”

  “It is not necessary for me to eat,” observed the Sawhorse.

  “Also examine my broad chest, which enables me to draw deep, full breaths,” said Jim, proudly.

  “I have no need to breathe,” returned the other.

  “No; you miss many pleasures,” remarked the cab-horse, pityingly. “You do not know the relief of brushing away a fly that has bitten you, nor the delight of eating delicious food, nor the satisfaction of drawing a long breath of fresh, pure air. You may be an imitation of a horse, but you’re a mighty poor one.”

  “Oh, I cannot hope ever to be like you,” sighed the Sawhorse. “But I am glad to meet at last a Real Horse. You are certainly the most beautiful creature I ever beheld.”

  This praise won Jim completely. To be called beautiful was a novelty in his experience. Said he:

  “Your chief fault, my friend, is in being made of wood, and that I suppose you cannot help. Real Horses, like myself, are made of flesh and blood and bones.”

  “I can see the bones all right,” replied the Sawhorse, “and they are admirable and distinct. Also I can see the flesh. But the blood, I suppose is tucked away inside.”

  “Exactly,” said Jim.

  “What good is it?” asked the Sawhorse.

  Jim did not know, but he would not tell the Sawhorse that.

  “If anything cuts me,” he replied, “the blood runs out to show where I am cut. You, poor thing! cannot even bleed when you are hurt.”

  “But I am never hurt,” said the Sawhorse. “Once in a while I get broken up some, but I am easily repaired and put in good order again. And I never feel a break or a splinter in the least.”

  Jim was almost tempted to envy the wooden horse for being unable to feel pain; but the creature was so absurdly unnatural that he decided he would not change places with it under any circumstances.

  “How did you happen to be shod with gold?” he asked.

  “Princess Ozma did that,” was the reply; “and it saves my legs from wearing out. We’ve had a good many adventures together, Ozma and I, and she likes me.”

  The cab-horse was about to reply when suddenly he gave a start and a neigh of terror and stood trembling like a leaf. For around the corner had come two enormous savage beasts, treading so lightly that they were upon him before he was aware of their presence. Jim was in the act of plunging down the path to escape when the Sawhorse cried out:

  “Stop, my brother! Stop, Real Horse! These are friends, and will do you no harm.”

  Jim hesitated, eyeing the beasts fearfully. One was an enormous Lion with clear, intelligent eyes, a tawney mane bushy and well kept, and a body like yellow plush. The other was a great Tiger with purple stripes around his lithe body, powerful limbs, and eyes that showed through the half closed lids like coals of fire. The huge forms of these monarchs of the forest and jungle were enough to strike terror to the stoutest heart, and it is no wonder Jim was afraid to face them.

  But the Sawhorse introduced the stranger in a calm tone, saying:

  “This, noble Horse, is my friend the Cowardly Lion, who is the valiant King of the Forest, but at the same time a faithful vassal of Princess Ozma. And this is the Hungry Tiger, the terror of the jungle, who longs to devour fat babies but is prevented by his Conscience from doing so. These royal beasts are both warm friends of little Dorothy and have come to the Emerald City this morning to welcome her to our fairyland.”

  Hearing these words Jim resolved to conquer his alarm. He bowed his head with as much dignity as he could muster toward the savage looking beasts, who in return nodded in a friendly way.

  “Is not the Real Horse a beautiful animal?” asked the Sawhorse admiringly.

  “That is doubtless a matter of taste,” returned the Lion. “In the forest he would be thought ungainly, because his face is stretched out and his neck is uselessly long. His joints, I notice, are swollen and overgrown, and he lacks flesh and is old in years.”

  “And dreadfully tough,” added the Hungry Tiger, in a sad voice. “My Conscience would never permit me to eat so tough a morsel as the Real Horse.”

  “I’m glad of that,” said Jim; “for I, also, have a Conscience, and it tells me not to crush in your skull with a blow of my powerful hoof.”

  If he thought to frighten the striped beast by such language he was mistaken. The Tiger seemed to smile, and winked one eye slowly.

  “You have a good Conscience, friend Horse,” it said, “and if you attend to its teachings it will do much to protect you from harm. Some day I will let you try to crush in my skull, and afterward you will know more about tigers than you do now.”

  “Any friend of Dorothy,” remarked the Cowardly Lion, “must be our friend, as well. So let us cease this talk of skull crushing and converse upon more pleasant subjects. Have you breakfasted, Sir Horse?”

  “Not yet,” replied Jim. “But here is plenty of excellent clover, so if you will excuse me I will eat now.”

  “He’s a vegetarian,” remarked the Tiger, as the horse began to munch the clover. “If I could eat grass I would not need a Conscience, for nothing could then tempt me to devour babies and lambs.”

  Just then Dorothy, who had risen early and heard the voices of the animals, ran out to greet her old friends. She hugged both the Lion and the Tiger with eager delight, but seemed to love the King of Beasts a little better than she did his hungry friend, having known him longer.

  By the time they had indulged in a good talk and Dorothy had told them all about the awful earthquake and her recent adventures, the breakfast bell rang from the palace and the little girl went inside to join her human comrades. As she entered the great hall a voice called out, in a rather harsh tone:

  “What! are you here again?”

  “Yes, I am,” she answered, looking all around to see where the voice came from.

  “What brought you back?” was the next question, and Dorothy’s eye rested on an antlered head hanging on the wall just over the fireplace, and caught its lips in the act of moving.

  “Good gracious!” she exclaimed. “I thought you were stuffed.”

  “So I am,” replied the head. “But once on a time I was part of the Gump, which Ozma sprinkled with the Powder of Life. I was then for a time the Head of the finest Flying Machine that was ever known to exist, and we did many wonderful things. Afterwa
rd the Gump was taken apart and I was put back on this wall; but I can still talk when I feel in the mood, which is not often.”

  “It’s very strange,” said the girl. “What were you when you were first alive?”

  “That I have forgotten,” replied the Gump’s Head, “and I do not think it is of much importance. But here comes Ozma; so I’d better hush up, for the Princess doesn’t like me to chatter since she changed her name from Tip to Ozma.”

  Just then the girlish Ruler of Oz opened the door and greeted Dorothy with a good-morning kiss. The little Princess seemed fresh and rosy and in good spirits.

  “Breakfast is served, dear,” she said, “and I am hungry. So don’t let us keep it waiting a single minute.”

  Chapter 17

  The NINE TINY PIGLETS

  fter breakfast Ozma announced that she had ordered a holiday to be observed throughout the Emerald City, in honor of her visitors. The people had learned that their old Wizard had returned to them and all were anxious to see him again, for he had always been a rare favorite. So first there was to be a grand procession through the streets, after which the little old man was requested to perform some of his wizardries in the great Throne Room of the palace. In the afternoon there were to be games and races.

  The procession was very imposing. First came the Imperial Cornet Band of Oz, dressed in emerald velvet uniforms with slashes of pea-green satin and buttons of immense cut emeralds. They played the National air called “The Oz Spangled Banner,” and behind them were the standard bearers with the Royal flag. This flag was divided into four quarters, one being colored sky-blue, another pink, a third lavender and a fourth white. In the center was a large emerald-green star, and all over the four quarters were sewn spangles that glittered beautifully in the sunshine. The colors represented the four countries of Oz, and the green star the Emerald City.

  Just behind the royal standard-bearers came the Princess Ozma in her royal chariot, which was of gold encrusted with emeralds and diamonds set in exquisite designs. The chariot was drawn on this occasion by the Cowardly Lion and the Hungry Tiger, who were decorated with immense pink and blue bows. In the chariot rode Ozma and Dorothy, the former in splendid raiment and wearing her royal coronet, while the little Kansas girl wore around her waist the Magic Belt she had once captured from the Nome King.

  Following the chariot came the Scarecrow mounted on the Sawhorse, and the people cheered him almost as loudly as they did their lovely Ruler. Behind him stalked with regular, jerky steps, the famous machine-man called Tik-Tok, who had been wound up by Dorothy for the occasion. Tik-Tok moved by clockwork, and was made all of burnished copper. He really belonged to the Kansas girl, who had much respect for his thoughts after they had been properly wound and set going; but as the copper man would be useless in any place but a fairy country Dorothy had left him in charge of Ozma, who saw that he was suitably cared for.

  There followed another band after this, which was called the Royal Court Band, because the members all lived in the palace. They wore white uniforms with real diamond buttons and played “What is Oz without Ozma” very sweetly.

  Then came Professor Woggle-Bug, with a group of students from the Royal College of Scientific Athletics. The boys wore long hair and striped sweaters and yelled their college yell every other step they took, to the great satisfaction of the populace, which was glad to have this evidence that their lungs were in good condition.

  The brilliantly polished Tin Woodman marched next, at the head of the Royal Army of Oz which consisted of twenty-eight officers, from Generals down to Captains. There were no privates in the army because all were so courageous and skillful that they had been promoted one by one until there were no privates left. Jim and the buggy followed, the old cab-horse being driven by Zeb while the Wizard stood up on the seat and bowed his bald head right and left in answer to the cheers of the people, who crowded thick about him.

  Taken altogether the procession was a grand success, and when it had returned to the palace the citizens crowded into the great Throne Room to see the Wizard perform his tricks.

  The first thing the little humbug did was to produce a tiny white piglet from underneath his hat and pretend to pull it apart, making two. This act he repeated until all of the nine tiny piglets were visible, and they were so glad to get out of his pocket that they ran around in a very lively manner. The pretty little creatures would have been a novelty anywhere, so the people were as amazed and delighted at their appearance as even the Wizard could have desired. When he had made them all disappear again Ozma declared she was sorry they were gone, for she wanted one of them to pet and play with. So the Wizard pretended to take one of the piglets out of the hair of the Princess (while really he slyly took it from his inside pocket) and Ozma smiled joyously as the creature nestled in her arms, and she promised to have an emerald collar made for its fat neck and to keep the little squealer always at hand to amuse her.

  Afterward it was noticed that the Wizard always performed his famous trick with eight piglets, but it seemed to please the people just as well as if there had been nine of them.

  In his little room back of the Throne Room the Wizard had found a lot of things he had left behind him when he went away in the balloon, for no one had occupied the apartment in his absence. There was enough material there to enable him to prepare several new tricks which he had learned from some of the jugglers in the circus, and he had passed part of the night in getting them ready. So he followed the trick of the nine tiny piglets with several other wonderful feats that greatly delighted his audience and the people did not seem to care a bit whether the little man was a humbug Wizard or not, so long as he succeeded in amusing them. They applauded all his tricks and at the end of the performance begged him earnestly not to go away again and leave them.

  “In that case,” said the little man, gravely, “I will cancel all of my engagements before the crowned heads of Europe and America and devote myself to the people of Oz, for I love you all so well that I can deny you nothing.”

  After the people had been dismissed with this promise our friends joined Princess Ozma at an elaborate luncheon in the palace, where even the Tiger and the Lion were sumptuously fed and Jim the cab-horse ate his oatmeal out of a golden bowl with seven rows of rubies, sapphires and diamonds set around the rim of it.

  In the afternoon they all went to a great field outside the city gates where the games were to be held. There was a beautiful canopy for Ozma and her guests to sit under and watch the people run races and jump and wrestle. You may be sure the folks of Oz did their best with such a distinguished company watching them, and finally Zeb offered to wrestle with a little Munchkin who seemed to be the champion. In appearance he was twice as old as Zeb, for he had long pointed whiskers and wore a peaked hat with little bells all around the brim of it, which tinkled gaily as he moved. But although the Munchkin was hardly tall enough to come to Zeb’s shoulder he was so strong and clever that he laid the boy three times on his back with apparent ease.

  Zeb was greatly astonished at his defeat, and when the pretty Princess joined her people in laughing at him he proposed a boxing-match with the Munchkin, to which the little Ozite readily agreed. But the first time that Zeb managed to give him a sharp box on the ears the Munchkin sat down upon the ground and cried until the tears ran down his whiskers, because he had been hurt. This made Zeb laugh, in turn, and the boy felt comforted to find that Ozma laughed as merrily at her weeping subject as she had at him.

  Just then the Scarecrow proposed a race between the Sawhorse and the cab-horse; and although all the others were delighted at the suggestion the Sawhorse drew back, saying:

  “Such a race would not be fair.”

  “Of course not,” added Jim, with a touch of scorn; “those little wooden legs of yours are not half as long as my own.”

  “It isn’t that,” said the Sawhorse, modestly; “but I never tire, and you do.”

  “Bah!” cried Jim, looking with great disdain at the
other; “do you imagine for an instant that such a shabby imitation of a horse as you are can run as fast as I?”

  “I don’t know, I’m sure,” replied the Sawhorse.

  “That is what we are trying to find out,” remarked the Scarecrow. “The object of a race is to see who can win it—or at least that is what my excellent brains think.”

  “Once, when I was young,” said Jim, “I was a race horse, and defeated all who dared run against me. I was born in Kentucky, you know, where all the best and most aristocratic horses come from.”

  “But you’re old, now, Jim,” suggested Zeb.

  “Old! Why, I feel like a colt today,” replied Jim. “I only wish there was a real horse here for me to race with. I’d show the people a fine sight, I can tell you.”

  “Then why not race with the Sawhorse?” enquired the Scarecrow.

  “He’s afraid,” said Jim.

  “Oh, no,” answered the Sawhorse. “I merely said it wasn’t fair. But if my friend the Real Horse is willing to undertake the race I am quite ready.”

  So they unharnessed Jim and took the saddle off the Sawhorse, and the two queerly matched animals were stood side by side for the start.

  “When I say ‘Go!’” Zeb called to them, “you must dig out and race until you reach those three trees you see over yonder. Then circle ’round them and come back again. The first one that passes the place where the Princess sits shall be named the winner. Are you ready?”

  “I suppose I ought to give the wooden dummy a good start of me,” growled Jim.

  “Never mind that,” said the Sawhorse. “I’ll do the best I can.”

  “Go!” cried Zeb; and at the word the two horses leaped forward and the race was begun.

  Jim’s big hoofs pounded away at a great rate, and although he did not look very graceful he ran in a way to do credit to his Kentucky breeding. But the Sawhorse was swifter than the wind. Its wooden legs moved so fast that their twinkling could scarcely be seen, and although so much smaller than the cab-horse it covered the ground much faster. Before they had reached the trees the Sawhorse was far ahead, and the wooden animal returned to the starting place and was being lustily cheered by the Ozites before Jim came panting up to the canopy where the Princess and her friends were seated.