“No one was hurt,” said the Wizard, delightedly.
“And no one hurt us,” added Aunt Em.
“But, best of all,” said Dorothy, “the wicked people have all forgotten their wickedness, and will not wish to hurt any one after this.”
“True, Princess,” declared the Shaggy Man. “It seems to me that to have reformed all those evil characters is more important than to have saved Oz.”
“Nevertheless,” remarked the Scarecrow, “I am glad Oz is saved. I can now go back to my new mansion and live happily.”
“And I am glad and grateful that my pumpkin farm is saved,” said Jack.
“For my part,” added the Tin Woodman, “I cannot express my joy that my lovely tin castle is not to be demolished by wicked enemies.”
“Still,” said Tiktok, “o-ther en-e-mies may come to Oz some day.”
“Why do you allow your clock-work brains to interrupt our joy?” asked Omby Amby, frowning at the machine man.
“I say what I am wound up to say,” answered Tiktok.
“And you are right,” declared Ozma. “I myself have been thinking of this very idea, and it seems to me there are entirely too many ways for people to get to the Land of Oz. We used to think the deadly desert that surrounds us was enough protection; but that is no longer the case. The Wizard and Dorothy have both come here through the air, and I am told the earth people have invented airships that can fly anywhere they wish them to go.”
“Why, sometimes they do, and sometimes they don’t,” asserted Dorothy.
“But in time the airships may cause us trouble,” continued Ozma, “for if the earth folk learn how to manage them we would be overrun with visitors who would ruin our lovely, secluded fairyland.”
“That is true enough,” agreed the Wizard.
“Also the desert fails to protect us in other ways,” Ozma went on, thoughtfully. “Johnny Dooit once made a sand-boat that sailed across it, and the Nome King made a tunnel under it. So I believe something ought to be done to cut us off from the rest of the world entirely, so that no one in the future will ever be able to intrude upon us.”
“How will you do that?” asked the Scarecrow.
“I do not know; but in some way I am sure it can be accomplished. To-morrow I will make a journey to the castle of Glinda the Good, and ask her advice.”
“May I go with you?” asked Dorothy, eagerly.
“Of course, my dear Princess; and I also invite any of our friends here who would like to undertake the journey.”
They all declared they wished to accompany their girl Ruler, for this was indeed an important mission, since the future of the Land of Oz to a great extent depended upon it. So Ozma gave orders to her servants to prepare for the journey on the morrow.
That day she watched her Magic Picture, and when it showed her that all the Nomes had returned through the tunnel to their underground caverns, Ozma used the Magic Belt to close up the tunnel, so that the earth underneath the desert sands became as solid as it was before the Nomes began to dig.
Early the following morning a gay cavalcade set out to visit the famous Sorceress, Glinda the Good. Ozma and Dorothy rode in a chariot drawn by the Cowardly Lion and the Hungry Tiger, while the Sawhorse drew the red wagon in which rode the rest of the party.
With hearts light and free from care they traveled merrily along through the lovely and fascinating Land of Oz, and in good season reached the stately castle in which resided the Sorceress.
Glinda knew that they were coming.
“I have been reading about you in my Magic Book,” she said, as she greeted them in her gracious way.
“What is your Magic Book like?” inquired Aunt Em, curiously.
“It is a record of everything that happens,” replied the Sorceress. “As soon as an event takes place, anywhere in the world, it is immediately found printed in my Magic Book. So when I read its pages I am well informed.”
“Did it tell you how our enemies drank the Water of ’Blivion?” asked Dorothy.
“Yes, my dear; it told all about it. And also it told me you were all coming to my castle, and why.”
“Then,” said Ozma, “I suppose you know what is in my mind, and that I am seeking a way to prevent any one in the future from discovering the Land of Oz.”
“Yes; I know that. And while you were on your journey I have thought of a way to accomplish your desire. For it seems to me unwise to allow too many outside people to come here. Dorothy, with her uncle and aunt, has now returned to Oz to live always, and there is no reason why we should leave any way open for others to travel uninvited to our fairyland. Let us make it impossible for any one ever to communicate with us in any way, after this. Then we may live peacefully and contentedly.”
“Your advice is wise,” returned Ozma. “I thank you, Glinda, for your promise to assist me.”
“But how can you do it?” asked Dorothy. “How can you keep every one from ever finding Oz?”
“By making our country invisible to all eyes but our own,” replied the Sorceress, smiling. “I have a magic charm powerful enough to accomplish that wonderful feat, and now that we have been warned of our danger by the Nome King’s invasion, I believe we must not hesitate to separate ourselves forever from all the rest of the world.”
“I agree with you,” said the Ruler of Oz.
“Won’t it make any difference to us?” asked Dorothy, doubtfully.
“No, my dear,” Glinda answered, assuringly. “We shall still be able to see each other and everything in the Land of Oz. It won’t affect us at all; but those who fly through the air over our country will look down and see nothing at all. Those who come to the edge of the desert, or try to cross it, will catch no glimpse of Oz, or know in what direction it lies. No one will try to tunnel to us again because we cannot be seen and therefore cannot be found. In other words, the Land of Oz will entirely disappear from the knowledge of the rest of the world.”
“That’s all right,” said Dorothy, cheerfully. “You may make Oz invis’ble as soon as you please, for all I care.”
“It is already invisible,” Glinda stated. “I knew Ozma’s wishes, and performed the Magic Spell before you arrived.”
Ozma seized the hand of the Sorceress and pressed it gratefully.
“Thank you!” she said.
Chapter 30
HOW the STORY of OZ CAME to an END
he writer of these Oz stories has received a little note from Princess Dorothy of Oz which, for a time, has made him feel rather disconcerted. The note was written on a broad, white feather from a stork’s wing, and it said:
“You will never hear anything more about Oz, because we are now cut off forever from the rest of the world. But Toto and I will always love you and all the other children who love us.
“DOROTHY GALE.”
This seemed to me too bad, at first, for Oz is a very interesting fairyland. Still, we have no right to feel grieved, for we have had enough of the history of the Land of Oz to fill six story books, and from its quaint people and their strange adventures we have been able to learn many useful and amusing things.
So good luck to little Dorothy and her companions. May they live long in their invisible country and be very happy!
Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1: Ojo and Unc Nunkie
Chapter 2: The Crooked Magician
Chapter 3: The Patchwork Girl
Chapter 4: The Glass Cat
Chapter 5: A Terrible Accident
Chapter 6: The Journey
Chapter 7: The Troublesome Phonograph
Chapter 8: The Foolish Owl and the Wise Donkey
Chapter 9: They Meet the Woozy
Chapter 10: Shaggy Man to the Rescue
Chapter 11: A Good Friend
Chapter 12: The Giant Porcupine
Chapter 13: Scraps and the Scarecrow
Chapter 14: Ojo Breaks the Law
Chapter 15: Ozma’s Prisoner<
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Chapter 16: Princess Dorothy
Chapter 17: Ozma and Her Friends
Chapter 18: Ojo Is Forgiven
Chapter 19: Trouble with the Tottenhots
Chapter 20: The Captive Yoop
Chapter 21: Hip Hopper the Champion
Chapter 22: The Joking Horners
Chapter 23: Peace Is Declared
Chapter 24: Ojo Finds the Dark Well
Chapter 25: They Bribe the Lazy Quadling
Chapter 26: The Trick River
Chapter 27: The Tin Woodman Objects
Chapter 28: The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
Affectionately dedicated to my young friend
Sumner Hamilton Britton of Chicago
Prologue
hrough the kindness of Dorothy Gale of Kansas, afterward Princess Dorothy of Oz, an humble writer in the United States of America was once appointed Royal Historian of Oz, with the privilege of writing the chronicle of that wonderful fairyland. But after making six books about the adventures of those interesting but queer people who live in the Land of Oz, the Historian learned with sorrow that by an edict of the Supreme Ruler, Ozma of Oz, her country would thereafter be rendered invisible to all who lived outside its borders and that all communication with Oz would, in the future, be cut off.
The children who had learned to look for the books about Oz and who loved the stories about the gay and happy people inhabiting that favored country, were as sorry as their Historian that there would be no more books of Oz stories. They wrote many letters asking if the Historian did not know of some adventures to write about that had happened before the Land of Oz was shut out from all the rest of the world. But he did not know of any. Finally one of the children inquired why we couldn’t hear from Princess Dorothy by wireless telegraph, which would enable her to communicate to the Historian whatever happened in the far-off Land of Oz without his seeing her, or even knowing just where Oz is.
That seemed a good idea; so the Historian rigged up a high tower in his back yard, and took lessons in wireless telegraphy until he understood it, and then began to call “Princess Dorothy of Oz” by sending messages into the air.
Now, it wasn’t likely that Dorothy would be looking for wireless messages or would heed the call; but one thing the Historian was sure of, and that was that the powerful Sorceress, Glinda, would know what he was doing and that he desired to communicate with Dorothy. For Glinda has a big book in which is recorded every event that takes place anywhere in the world, just the moment that it happens, and so of course the book would tell her about the wireless message.
And that was the way Dorothy heard that the Historian wanted to speak with her, and there was a Shaggy Man in the Land of Oz who knew how to telegraph a wireless reply. The result was that the Historian begged so hard to be told the latest news of Oz, so that he could write it down for the children to read, that Dorothy asked permission of Ozma, and Ozma graciously consented.
That is why, after two long years of waiting, another Oz story is now presented to the children of America. This would not have been possible had not some clever man invented the “wireless” and an equally clever child suggested the idea of reaching the mysterious Land of Oz by its means.
L. Frank Baum
“Ozcot” at Hollywood in California
Chapter 1
OJO and UNC NUNKIE
here’s the butter, Unc Nunkie?” asked Ojo.
Unc looked out of the window and stroked his long beard. Then he turned to the Munchkin boy and shook his head.
“Isn’t,” said he.
“Isn’t any butter? That’s too bad, Unc. Where’s the jam then?” inquired Ojo, standing on a stool so he could look through all the shelves of the cupboard. But Unc Nunkie shook his head again.
“Gone,” he said.
“No jam, either? And no cake—no jelly—no apples—nothing but bread?”
“All,” said Unc, again stroking his beard as he gazed from the window.
The little boy brought the stool and sat beside his uncle, munching the dry bread slowly and seeming in deep thought.
“Nothing grows in our yard but the bread tree,” he mused, “and there are only two more loaves on that tree; and they’re not ripe yet. Tell me, Unc; why are we so poor?”
The old Munchkin turned and looked at Ojo. He had kindly eyes, but he hadn’t smiled or laughed in so long that the boy had forgotten that Unc Nunkie could look any other way than solemn. And Unc never spoke any more words than he was obliged to, so his little nephew, who lived alone with him, had learned to understand a great deal from one word.
“Why are we so poor, Unc?” repeated the boy.
“Not,” said the old Munchkin.
“I think we are,” declared Ojo. “What have we got?”
“House,” said Unc Nunkie.
“I know; but everyone in the Land of Oz has a place to live. What else, Unc?”
“Bread.”
“I’m eating the last loaf that’s ripe. There; I’ve put aside your share, Unc. It’s on the table, so you can eat it when you get hungry. But when that is gone, what shall we eat, Unc?”
The old man shifted in his chair but merely shook his head.
“Of course,” said Ojo, who was obliged to talk because his uncle would not, “no one starves in the Land of Oz, either. There is plenty for everyone, you know; only, if it isn’t just where you happen to be, you must go where it is.”
The aged Munchkin wriggled again and stared at his small nephew as if disturbed by his argument.
“By to-morrow morning,” the boy went on, “we must go where there is something to eat, or we shall grow very hungry and become very unhappy.”
“Where?” asked Unc.
“Where shall we go? I don’t know, I’m sure,” replied Ojo. “But you must know, Unc. You must have traveled, in your time, because you’re so old. I don’t remember it, because ever since I could remember anything we’ve lived right here in this lonesome, round house, with a little garden back of it and the thick woods all around. All I’ve ever seen of the great Land of Oz, Unc dear, is the view of that mountain over at the south, where they say the Hammerheads live—who won’t let anybody go by them—and that mountain at the north, where they say nobody lives.”
“One,” declared Unc, correcting him.
“Oh, yes; one family lives there, I’ve heard. That’s the Crooked Magician, who is named Dr. Pipt, and his wife Margolotte. One year you told me about them; I think it took you a whole year, Unc, to say as much as I’ve just said about the Crooked Magician and his wife. They live high up on the mountain, and the good Munchkin Country, where the fruits and flowers grow, is just the other side. It’s funny you and I should live here all alone, in the middle of the forest, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Unc.
“Then let’s go away and visit the Munchkin Country and its jolly, good-natured people. I’d love to get a sight of something besides woods, Unc Nunkie.”
“Too little,” said Unc.
“Why, I’m not so little as I used to be,” answered the boy earnestly. “I think I can walk as far and as fast through the woods as you can, Unc. And now that nothing grows in our back yard that is good to eat, we must go where there is food.”
Unc Nunkie made no reply for a time. Then he shut down the window and turned his chair to face the room, for the sun was sinking behind the tree-tops and it was growing cool.
By and by Ojo lighted the fire and the logs blazed freely in the broad fireplace. The two sat in the firelight a long time—the old, white-bearded Munchkin and the little boy. Both were thinking. When it grew quite dark outside, Ojo said:
“Eat your bread, Unc, and then we will go to bed.”
But Unc Nunkie did not eat the bread; neither did he go directly to bed. Long after his little nephew was sound asleep in the corner of the room the old man sat by the fire, thinking.
Chapter 2
The CROOKED MAGICIAN
ust at dawn next morning
Unc Nunkie laid his hand tenderly on Ojo’s head and awakened him.
“Come,” he said.
Ojo dressed. He wore blue silk stockings, blue knee-pants with gold buckles, a blue ruffled waist and a jacket of bright blue braided with gold. His shoes were of blue leather and turned up at the toes, which were pointed. His hat had a peaked crown and a flat brim, and around the brim was a row of tiny golden bells that tinkled when he moved. This was the native costume of those who inhabited the Munchkin Country of the Land of Oz, so Unc Nunkie’s dress was much like that of his nephew. Instead of shoes, the old man wore boots with turnover tops and his blue coat had wide cuffs of gold braid.
The boy noticed that his uncle had not eaten the bread, and supposed the old man had not been hungry. Ojo was hungry, though; so he divided the piece of bread upon the table and ate his half for breakfast, washing it down with fresh, cool water from the brook. Unc put the other piece of bread in his jacket pocket, after which he again said, as he walked out through the doorway: “Come.”
Ojo was well pleased. He was dreadfully tired of living all alone in the woods and wanted to travel and see people. For a long time he had wished to explore the beautiful Land of Oz in which they lived. When they were outside, Unc simply latched the door and started up the path. No one would disturb their little house, even if anyone came so far into the thick forest while they were gone.
At the foot of the mountain that separated the Country of the Munchkins from the Country of the Gillikins, the path divided. One way led to the left and the other to the right—straight up the mountain. Unc Nunkie took this right-hand path and Ojo followed without asking why. He knew it would take them to the house of the Crooked Magician, whom he had never seen but who was their nearest neighbor.
All the morning they trudged up the mountain path and at noon Unc and Ojo sat on a fallen tree-trunk and ate the last of the bread which the old Munchkin had placed in his pocket. Then they started on again and two hours later came in sight of the house of Dr. Pipt.
Oz, The Complete Collection Page 79
