Oz, The Complete Collection

by L. Frank Baum

  “That, at least,” was the reply. “You will have to visit Billina and congratulate her.”

  “It will give me pleasure to do that,” said the Shaggy Man. “But you will observe that I have brought some strangers home with me. I am going to take them to see Dorothy.”

  “One moment, please,” said the Soldier, barring their way as they started to enter the gate. “I am on duty, and I have orders to execute. Is anyone in your party named Ojo the Unlucky?”

  “Why, that’s me!” cried Ojo, astonished at hearing his name on the lips of a stranger.

  The Soldier with the Green Whiskers nodded. “I thought so,” said he, “and I am sorry to announce that it is my painful duty to arrest you.”

  “Arrest me!” exclaimed the boy. “What for?”

  “I haven’t looked to see,” answered the Soldier. Then he drew a paper from his breast pocket and glanced at it. “Oh, yes; you are to be arrested for willfully breaking one of the Laws of Oz.”

  “Breaking a Law!” said Scraps. “Nonsense, Soldier; you’re joking.”

  “Not this time,” returned the Soldier, with a sigh. “My dear child—what are you, a rummage sale or a guess-me-quick?—in me you behold the Body-Guard of our gracious Ruler, Princess Ozma, as well as the Royal Army of Oz and the Police Force of the Emerald City.”

  “And only one man!” exclaimed the Patchwork Girl.

  “Only one, and plenty enough. In my official positions I’ve had nothing to do for a good many years—so long that I began to fear I was absolutely useless—until to-day. An hour ago I was called to the presence of her Highness, Ozma of Oz, and told to arrest a boy named Ojo the Unlucky, who was journeying from the Munchkin Country to the Emerald City and would arrive in a short time. This command so astonished me that I nearly fainted, for it is the first time anyone has merited arrest since I can remember. You are rightly named Ojo the Unlucky, my poor boy, since you have broken a Law of Oz.

  “But you are wrong,” said Scraps. “Ozma is wrong—you are all wrong—for Ojo has broken no Law.”

  “Then he will soon be free again,” replied the Soldier with the Green Whiskers. “Anyone accused of crime is given a fair trial by our Ruler and has every chance to prove his innocence. But just now Ozma’s orders must be obeyed.”

  With this he took from his pocket a pair of handcuffs made of gold and set with rubies and diamonds, and these he snapped over Ojo’s wrists.

  Chapter 15

  OZMA’S PRISONER

  he boy was so bewildered by this calamity that he made no resistance at all. He knew very well he was guilty, but it surprised him that Ozma also knew it. He wondered how she had found out so soon that he had picked the six-leaved clover. He handed his basket to Scraps and said:

  “Keep that, until I get out of prison. If I never get out, take it to the Crooked Magician, to whom it belongs.”

  The Shaggy Man had been gazing earnestly in the boy’s face, uncertain whether to defend him or not; but something he read in Ojo’s expression made him draw back and refuse to interfere to save him. The Shaggy Man was greatly surprised and grieved, but he knew that Ozma never made mistakes and so Ojo must really have broken the Law of Oz.

  The Soldier with the Green Whiskers now led them all through the gate and into a little room built in the wall. Here sat a jolly little man, richly dressed in green and having around his neck a heavy gold chain to which a number of great golden keys were attached. This was the Guardian of the Gates and at the moment they entered his room he was playing a tune upon a mouth-organ.

  “Listen!” he said, holding up his hand for silence. “I’ve just composed a tune called ‘The Speckled Alligator.’ It’s in patch-time, which is much superior to rag-time, and I’ve composed it in honor of the Patchwork Girl, who has just arrived.”

  “How did you know I had arrived?” asked Scraps, much interested.

  “It’s my business to know who’s coming, for I’m the Guardian of the Gates. Keep quiet while I play you ‘The Speckled Alligator.’”

  It wasn’t a very bad tune, nor a very good one, but all listened respectfully while he shut his eyes and swayed his head from side to side and blew the notes from the little instrument. When it was all over the Soldier with the Green Whiskers said:

  “Guardian, I have here a prisoner.”

  “Good gracious! A prisoner?” cried the little man, jumping up from his chair. “Which one? Not the Shaggy Man?”

  “No; this boy.”

  “Ah; I hope his fault is as small as himself,” said the Guardian of the Gates. “But what can he have done, and what made him do it?”

  “Can’t say,” replied the Soldier. “All I know is that he has broken the Law.”

  “But no one ever does that!”

  “Then he must be innocent, and soon will be released. I hope you are right, Guardian. Just now I am ordered to take him to prison. Get me a prisoner’s robe from your Official Wardrobe.”

  The Guardian unlocked a closet and took from it a white robe, which the Soldier threw over Ojo. It covered him from head to foot, but had two holes just in front of his eyes, so he could see where to go. In this attire the boy presented a very quaint appearance.

  As the Guardian unlocked a gate leading from his room into the streets of the Emerald City, the Shaggy Man said to Scraps:

  “I think I shall take you directly to Dorothy, as the Scarecrow advised, and the Glass Cat and the Woozy may come with us. Ojo must go to prison with the Soldier with the Green Whiskers, but he will be well treated and you need not worry about him.”

  “What will they do with him?” asked Scraps.

  “That I cannot tell. Since I came to the Land of Oz no one has ever been arrested or imprisoned—until Ojo broke the Law.”

  “Seems to me that girl Ruler of yours is making a big fuss over nothing,” remarked Scraps, tossing her yarn hair out of her eyes with a jerk of her patched head. “I don’t know what Ojo has done, but it couldn’t be anything very bad, for you and I were with him all the time.”

  The Shaggy Man made no reply to this speech and presently the Patchwork Girl forgot all about Ojo in her admiration of the wonderful city she had entered.

  They soon separated from the Munchkin boy, who was led by the Soldier with the Green Whiskers down a side street toward the prison. Ojo felt very miserable and greatly ashamed of himself, but he was beginning to grow angry because he was treated in such a disgraceful manner. Instead of entering the splendid Emerald City as a respectable traveler who was entitled to a welcome and to hospitality, he was being brought in as a criminal, handcuffed and in a robe that told all he met of his deep disgrace.

  Ojo was by nature gentle and affectionate and if he had disobeyed the Law of Oz it was to restore his dear Unc Nunkie to life. His fault was more thoughtless than wicked, but that did not alter the fact that he had committed a fault. At first he had felt sorrow and remorse, but the more he thought about the unjust treatment he had received—unjust merely because he considered it so—the more he resented his arrest, blaming Ozma for making foolish Laws and then punishing folks who broke them. Only a six-leaved clover! A tiny green plant growing neglected and trampled under foot. What harm could there be in picking it? Ojo began to think Ozma must be a very bad and oppressive Ruler for such a lovely fairyland as Oz. The Shaggy Man said the people loved her; but how could they?

  The little Munchkin boy was so busy thinking these things—which many guilty prisoners have thought before him—that he scarcely noticed all the splendor of the city streets through which they passed. Whenever they met any of the happy, smiling people, the boy turned his head away in shame, although none knew who was beneath the robe.

  By and by they reached a house built just beside the great city wall, but in a quiet, retired place. It was a pretty house, neatly painted and with many windows. Before it was a garden filled with blooming flowers. The Soldier with the Green Whiskers led Ojo up the gravel path to the front door, on which he knocked.

&nbs
p; A woman opened the door and, seeing Ojo in his white robe, exclaimed:

  “Goodness me! A prisoner at last. But what a small one, Soldier.”

  “The size doesn’t matter, Tollydiggle, my dear. The fact remains that he is a prisoner,” said the Soldier. “And, this being the prison, and you the jailer, it is my duty to place the prisoner in your charge.”

  “True. Come in, then, and I’ll give you a receipt for him.”

  They entered the house and passed through a hall to a large circular room, where the woman pulled the robe off from Ojo and looked at him with kindly interest. The boy, on his part, was gazing around him in amazement, for never had he dreamed of such a magnificent apartment as this in which he stood. The roof of the dome was of colored glass, worked into beautiful designs. The walls were paneled with plates of gold decorated with gems of great size and many colors, and upon the tiled floor were soft rugs delightful to walk upon. The furniture was framed in gold and upholstered in satin brocade and it consisted of easy chairs, divans and stools in great variety. Also there were several tables with mirror tops and cabinets filled with rare and curious things. In one place a case filled with books stood against the wall, and elsewhere Ojo saw a cupboard containing all sorts of games.

  “May I stay here a little while before I go to prison?” asked the boy, pleadingly.

  “Why, this is your prison,” replied Tollydiggle, “and in me behold your jailor. Take off those handcuffs, Soldier, for it is impossible for anyone to escape from this house.”

  “I know that very well,” replied the Soldier and at once unlocked the handcuffs and released the prisoner.

  The woman touched a button on the wall and lighted a big chandelier that hung suspended from the ceiling, for it was growing dark outside. Then she seated herself at a desk and asked:

  “What name?”

  “Ojo the Unlucky,” answered the Soldier with the Green Whiskers.

  “Unlucky? Ah, that accounts for it,” said she. “What crime?”

  “Breaking a Law of Oz.”

  “All right. There’s your receipt, Soldier; and now I’m responsible for the prisoner. I’m glad of it, for this is the first time I’ve ever had anything to do, in my official capacity,” remarked the jailer, in a pleased tone.

  “It’s the same with me, Tollydiggle,” laughed the Soldier. “But my task is finished and I must go and report to Ozma that I’ve done my duty like a faithful Police Force, a loyal Army and an honest Body-Guard—as I hope I am.”

  Saying this, he nodded farewell to Tollydiggle and Ojo and went away.

  “Now, then,” said the woman briskly, “I must get you some supper, for you are doubtless hungry. What would you prefer: planked whitefish, omelet with jelly or mutton-chops with gravy?”

  Ojo thought about it. Then he said: “I’ll take the chops, if you please.”

  “Very well; amuse yourself while I’m gone; I won’t be long,” and then she went out by a door and left the prisoner alone.

  Ojo was much astonished, for not only was this unlike any prison he had ever heard of, but he was being treated more as a guest than a criminal. There were many windows and they had no locks. There were three doors to the room and none were bolted. He cautiously opened one of the doors and found it led into a hallway. But he had no intention of trying to escape. If his jailor was willing to trust him in this way he would not betray her trust, and moreover a hot supper was being prepared for him and his prison was very pleasant and comfortable. So he took a book from the case and sat down in a big chair to look at the pictures.

  This amused him until the woman came in with a large tray and spread a cloth on one of the tables. Then she arranged his supper, which proved the most varied and delicious meal Ojo had ever eaten in his life.

  Tollydiggle sat near him while he ate, sewing on some fancy work she held in her lap. When he had finished she cleared the table and then read to him a story from one of the books.

  “Is this really a prison?” he asked, when she had finished reading.

  “Indeed it is,” she replied. “It is the only prison in the Land of Oz.”

  “And am I a prisoner?”

  “Bless the child! Of course.”

  “Then why is the prison so fine, and why are you so kind to me?” he earnestly asked.

  Tollydiggle seemed surprised by the question, but she presently answered:

  “We consider a prisoner unfortunate. He is unfortunate in two ways—because he has done something wrong and because he is deprived of his liberty. Therefore we should treat him kindly, because of his misfortune, for otherwise he would become hard and bitter and would not be sorry he had done wrong. Ozma thinks that one who has committed a fault did so because he was not strong and brave; therefore she puts him in prison to make him strong and brave. When that is accomplished he is no longer a prisoner, but a good and loyal citizen and everyone is glad that he is now strong enough to resist doing wrong. You see, it is kindness that makes one strong and brave; and so we are kind to our prisoners.”

  Ojo thought this over very carefully. “I had an idea,” said he, “that prisoners were always treated harshly, to punish them.”

  “That would be dreadful!” cried Tollydiggle. “Isn’t one punished enough in knowing he has done wrong? Don’t you wish, Ojo, with all your heart, that you had not been disobedient and broken a Law of Oz?”

  “I—I hate to be different from other people,” he admitted.

  “Yes; one likes to be respected as highly as his neighbors are,” said the woman. “When you are tried and found guilty, you will be obliged to make amends, in some way. I don’t know just what Ozma will do to you, because this is the first time one of us has broken a Law; but you may be sure she will be just and merciful. Here in the Emerald City people are too happy and contented ever to do wrong; but perhaps you came from some faraway corner of our land, and having no love for Ozma carelessly broke one of her Laws.”

  “Yes,” said Ojo, “I’ve lived all my life in the heart of a lonely forest, where I saw no one but dear Unc Nunkie.”

  “I thought so,” said Tollydiggle. “But now we have talked enough, so let us play a game until bedtime.”

  Chapter 16

  PRINCESS DOROTHY

  orothy Gale was sitting in one of her rooms in the royal palace, while curled up at her feet was a little black dog with a shaggy coat and very bright eyes. She wore a plain white frock, without any jewels or other ornaments except an emerald-green hair-ribbon, for Dorothy was a simple little girl and had not been in the least spoiled by the magnificence surrounding her. Once the child had lived on the Kansas prairies, but she seemed marked for adventure, for she had made several trips to the Land of Oz before she came to live there for good. Her very best friend was the beautiful Ozma of Oz, who loved Dorothy so well that she kept her in her own palace, so as to be near her. The girl’s Uncle Henry and Aunt Em—the only relatives she had in the world—had also been brought here by Ozma and given a pleasant home. Dorothy knew almost everybody in Oz, and it was she who had discovered the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodman and the Cowardly Lion, as well as Tik-Tok the Clockwork Man. Her life was very pleasant now, and although she had been made a Princess of Oz by her friend Ozma she did not care much to be a Princess and remained as sweet as when she had been plain Dorothy Gale of Kansas.

  Dorothy was reading in a book this evening when Jellia Jamb, the favorite servant-maid of the palace, came to say that the Shaggy Man wanted to see her.

  “All right,” said Dorothy; “tell him to come right up.”

  “But he has some queer creatures with him—some of the queerest I’ve ever laid eyes on,” reported Jellia.

  “Never mind; let ’em all come up,” replied Dorothy.

  But when the door opened to admit not only the Shaggy Man, but Scraps, the Woozy and the Glass Cat, Dorothy jumped up and looked at her strange visitors in amazement. The Patchwork Girl was the most curious of all and Dorothy was uncertain at first whether Scraps was real
ly alive or only a dream or a nightmare. Toto, her dog, slowly uncurled himself and going to the Patchwork Girl sniffed at her inquiringly; but soon he lay down again, as if to say he had no interest in such an irregular creation.

  “You’re a new one to me,” Dorothy said reflectively, addressing the Patchwork Girl. “I can’t imagine where you’ve come from.”

  “Who, me?” asked Scraps, looking around the pretty room instead of at the girl. “Oh, I came from a bed-quilt, I guess. That’s what they say, anyhow. Some call it a crazy-quilt and some a patchwork quilt. But my name is Scraps—and now you know all about me.”

  “Not quite all,” returned Dorothy with a smile. “I wish you’d tell me how you came to be alive.”

  “That’s an easy job,” said Scraps, sitting upon a big upholstered chair and making the springs bounce her up and down. “Margolotte wanted a slave, so she made me out of an old bed-quilt she didn’t use. Cotton stuffing, suspender-button eyes, red velvet tongue, pearl beads for teeth. The Crooked Magician made a Powder of Life, sprinkled me with it and—here I am. Perhaps you’ve noticed my different colors. A very refined and educated gentleman named the Scarecrow, whom I met, told me I am the most beautiful creature in all Oz, and I believe it.”

  “Oh! Have you met our Scarecrow, then?” asked Dorothy, a little puzzled to understand the brief history related.

  “Yes; isn’t he jolly?”

  “The Scarecrow has many good qualities,” replied Dorothy. “But I’m sorry to hear all this ’bout the Crooked Magician. Ozma’ll be mad as hops when she hears he’s been doing magic again. She told him not to.”

  “He only practices magic for the benefit of his own family,” explained Bungle, who was keeping at a respectful distance from the little black dog.

  “Dear me,” said Dorothy; “I hadn’t noticed you before. Are you glass, or what?”

  “I’m glass, and transparent, too, which is more than can be said of some folks,” answered the cat. “Also I have some lovely pink brains; you can see ’em work.”