Oz, The Complete Collection

by L. Frank Baum

  “Your wise answers to the questions of my friends,” said she, “helped them to rescue me. Therefore I am deeply grateful to you and to your noble King.”

  The bead eyes of the little Pink Bear stared unresponsive to this praise until the big Lavender Bear turned the crank in its side, when it said in its squeaky voice: “I thank your Majesty.”

  “For my part,” returned the Bear King, “I realize that you were well worth saving, Miss Ozma, and so I am much pleased that we could be of service to you. By means of my Magic Wand I have been creating exact images of your Emerald City and your royal palace, and I must confess that they are more attractive than any places I have ever seen—not excepting Bear Center.”

  “I would like to entertain you in my palace,” returned Ozma, sweetly, “and you are welcome to return with me and to make me a long visit, if your bear subjects can spare you from your own kingdom.”

  “As for that,” answered the King, “my kingdom causes me little worry, and I often find it somewhat tame and uninteresting. Therefore I am glad to accept your kind invitation. Corporal Waddle may be trusted to care for my bears in my absence.”

  “And you’ll bring the little Pink Bear?” asked Dorothy eagerly.

  “Of course, my dear; I would not willingly part with him.”

  They remained in the wicker castle for three days, carefully packing all the magical things that had been stolen by Ugu and also taking whatever in the way of magic the shoemaker had inherited from his ancestors.

  “For,” said Ozma, “I have forbidden any of my subjects except Glinda the Good and the Wizard of Oz to practice magical arts, because they cannot be trusted to do good and not harm. Therefore Ugu must never again be permitted to work magic of any sort.”

  “Well,” remarked Dorothy cheerfully, “a dove can’t do much in the way of magic, anyhow, and I’m going to keep Ugu in the form of a dove until he reforms and becomes a good and honest shoemaker.”

  When everything was packed and loaded on the backs of the animals, they set out for the river, taking a more direct route than that by which Cayke and the Frogman had come. In this way they avoided the Cities of Thi and Herku and Bear Center and after a pleasant journey reached the Winkie River and found a jolly ferryman who had a fine, big boat and was willing to carry the entire party by water to a place quite near to the Emerald City.

  The river had many windings and many branches, and the journey did not end in a day, but finally the boat floated into a pretty lake which was but a short distance from Ozma’s home. Here the jolly ferryman was rewarded for his labors and then the entire party set out in a grand procession to march to the Emerald City.

  News that the Royal Ozma had been found spread quickly throughout the neighborhood and both sides of the road soon became lined with loyal subjects of the beautiful and beloved Ruler. Therefore Ozma’s ears heard little but cheers and her eyes beheld little else than waving handkerchiefs and banners during all the triumphal march from the lake to the city’s gates.

  And there she met a still greater concourse, for all the inhabitants of the Emerald City turned out to welcome her return and several bands played gay music and all the houses were decorated with flags and bunting and never before were the people so joyous and happy as at this moment when they welcomed home their girl Ruler. For she had been lost and was now found again, and surely that was cause for rejoicing.

  Glinda was at the royal palace to meet the returning party and the good Sorceress was indeed glad to have her Great Book of Records returned to her, as well as all the precious collection of magic instruments and elixirs and chemicals that had been stolen from her castle. Cap’n Bill and the Wizard at once hung the Magic Picture upon the wall of Ozma’s boudoir and the Wizard was so light-hearted that he did several tricks with the tools in his black bag to amuse his companions and prove that once again he was a powerful wizard.

  For a whole week there was feasting and merriment and all sorts of joyous festivities at the palace, in honor of Ozma’s safe return. The Lavender Bear and the little Pink Bear received much attention and were honored by all, much to the Bear King’s satisfaction. The Frogman speedily became a favorite at the Emerald City and the Shaggy Man and Tik-Tok and Jack Pumpkinhead, who had now returned from their search, were very polite to the big frog and made him feel quite at home. Even the Cookie Cook, because she was quite a stranger and Ozma’s guest, was shown as much deference as if she had been a Queen.

  “All the same, your Majesty,” said Cayke to Ozma, day after day, with tiresome repetition, “I hope you will soon find my jeweled dishpan, for never can I be quite happy without it.”

  Chapter 26

  DOROTHY FORGIVES

  he grey dove which had once been Ugu the Shoemaker sat on its tree in the far Quadling Country and moped, chirping dismally and brooding over its misfortunes. After a time, the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman came along and sat beneath the tree, paying no heed to the mutterings of the grey dove.

  The Tin Woodman took a small oilcan from his tin pocket and carefully oiled his tin joints with it. While he was thus engaged, the Scarecrow remarked, “I feel much better, dear comrade, since we found that heap of nice clean straw and you stuffed me anew with it.”

  “And I feel much better now that my joints are oiled,” returned the Tin Woodman, with a sigh of pleasure. “You and I, friend Scarecrow, are much more easily cared for than those clumsy meat people, who spend half their time dressing in fine clothes and who must live in splendid dwellings in order to be contented and happy. You and I do not eat, and so we are spared the dreadful bother of getting three meals a day. Nor do we waste half our lives in sleep, a condition that causes the meat people to lose all consciousness and become as thoughtless and helpless as logs of wood.”

  “You speak truly,” responded the Scarecrow, tucking some wisps of straw into his breast with his padded fingers. “I often feel sorry for the meat people, many of whom are my friends. Even the beasts are happier than they, for they require less to make them content. And the birds are the luckiest creatures of all, for they can fly swiftly where they will and find a home at any place they care to perch; their food consists of seeds and grains they gather from the fields and their drink is a sip of water from some running brook. If I could not be a Scarecrow—or a Tin Woodman—my next choice would be to live as a bird does.”

  The grey dove had listened carefully to this speech and seemed to find comfort in it, for it hushed its moaning. And just then the Tin Woodman discovered Cayke’s dishpan, which was on the ground quite near to him.

  “Here is a rather pretty utensil,” he said, taking it in his tin hand to examine it, “but I would not care to own it. Whoever fashioned it of gold and covered it with diamonds did not add to its usefulness, nor do I consider it as beautiful as the bright dishpans of tin one usually sees. No yellow color is ever so handsome as the silver sheen of tin,” and he turned to look at his tin legs and body with approval.

  “I cannot quite agree with you there,” replied the Scarecrow. “My straw stuffing has a light yellow color, and it is not only pretty to look at but it crunkles most delightfully when I move.”

  “Let us admit that all colors are good in their proper places,” said the Tin Woodman, who was too kind-hearted to quarrel; “but you must agree with me that a dishpan that is yellow is unnatural. What shall we do with this one, which we have just found?”

  “Let us carry it back to the Emerald City,” suggested the Scarecrow. “Some of our friends might like to have it for a foot-bath, and in using it that way, its golden color and sparkling ornaments would not injure its usefulness.”

  So they went away and took the jeweled dishpan with them. And, after wandering through the country for a day or so longer, they learned the news that Ozma had been found. Therefore they straightway returned to the Emerald City and presented the dishpan to Princess Ozma as a token of their joy that she had been restored to them.

  Ozma promptly gave the diamond-studded go
ld dishpan to Cayke the Cookie Cook, who was so delighted at regaining her lost treasure that she danced up and down in glee and then threw her skinny arms around Ozma’s neck and kissed her gratefully. Cayke’s mission was now successfully accomplished, but she was having such a good time at the Emerald City that she seemed in no hurry to go back to the Country of the Yips.

  It was several weeks after the dishpan had been restored to the Cookie Cook when one day, as Dorothy was seated in the royal gardens with Trot and Betsy beside her, a grey dove came flying down and alighted at the girl’s feet.

  “I am Ugu the Shoemaker,” said the dove in a soft, mourning voice, “and I have come to ask you to forgive me for the great wrong I did in stealing Ozma and the magic that belonged to her and to others.”

  “Are you sorry, then?” asked Dorothy, looking hard at the bird.

  “I am very sorry,” declared Ugu. “I’ve been thinking over my misdeeds for a long time, for doves have little else to do but think, and I’m surprised that I was such a wicked man and had so little regard for the rights of others. I am now convinced that even had I succeeded in making myself Ruler of all Oz I should not have been happy, for many days of quiet thought have shown me that only those things one acquires honestly are able to render one content.”

  “I guess that’s so,” said Trot.

  “Anyhow,” said Betsy, “the bad man seems truly sorry, and if he has now become a good and honest man, we ought to forgive him.”

  “I fear I cannot become a good man again,” said Ugu, “for the transformation I am under will always keep me in the form of a dove. But, with the kind forgiveness of my former enemies, I hope to become a very good dove, and highly respected.”

  “Wait here till I run for my Magic Belt,” said Dorothy, “and I’ll transform you back to your reg’lar shape in a jiffy.”

  “No—don’t do that!” pleaded the dove, fluttering its wings in an excited way. “I only want your forgiveness; I don’t want to be a man again. As Ugu the Shoemaker I was skinny and old and unlovely; as a dove I am quite pretty to look at. As a man I was ambitious and cruel, while as a dove I can be content with my lot and happy in my simple life. I have learned to love the free and independent life of a bird and I’d rather not change back.”

  “Just as you like, Ugu,” said Dorothy, resuming her seat. “Perhaps you are right, for you’re certainly a better dove than you were a man, and if you should ever backslide, an’ feel wicked again, you couldn’t do much harm as a grey dove.”

  “Then you forgive me for all the trouble I caused you?” he asked earnestly.

  “Of course; anyone who’s sorry just has to be forgiven.”

  “Thank you,” said the grey dove, and flew away again.

  Contents

  Dedication

  To My Readers

  Chapter 1: Woot the Wanderer

  Chapter 2: The Heart of the Tin Woodman

  Chapter 3: Roundabout

  Chapter 4: The Loons of Loonville

  Chapter 5: Mrs. Yoop, the Giantess

  Chapter 6: The Magic of a Yookoohoo

  Chapter 7: The Lace Apron

  Chapter 8: The Menace of the Forest

  Chapter 9: The Quarrelsome Dragons

  Chapter 10: Tommy Kwikstep

  Chapter 11: Jinjur’s Ranch

  Chapter 12: Ozma and Dorothy

  Chapter 13: The Restoration

  Chapter 14: The Green Monkey

  Chapter 15: The Man of Tin

  Chapter 16: Captain Fyter

  Chapter 17: The Workshop of Ku-Klip

  Chapter 18: The Tin Woodman Talks to Himself

  Chapter 19: The Invisible Country

  Chapter 20: Over Night

  Chapter 21: Polychrome’s Magic

  Chapter 22: Nimmie Amee

  Chapter 23: Through the Tunnel

  Chapter 24: The Curtain Falls

  This book is dedicated

  to the son of my son, Frank Alden Baum

  To My Readers

  know that some of you have been waiting for this story of the Tin Woodman, because many of my correspondents have asked me, time and again, what ever became of the “pretty Munchkin girl” whom Nick Chopper was engaged to marry before the Wicked Witch enchanted his axe and he traded his flesh for tin. I, too, have wondered what became of her, but until Woot the Wanderer interested himself in the matter the Tin Woodman knew no more than we did. However, he found her, after many thrilling adventures, as you will discover when you have read this story.

  I am delighted at the continued interest of both young and old in the Oz stories. A learned college professor recently wrote me to ask: “For readers of what age are your books intended?” It puzzled me to answer that properly, until I had looked over some of the letters I have received. One says: “I’m a little boy five years old, and I just love your Oz stories. My sister, who is writing this for me, reads me the Oz books, but I wish I could read them myself.” Another letter says: “I’m a great girl thirteen years old, so you’ll be surprised when I tell you I am not too old yet for the Oz stories.” Here’s another letter: “Since I was a young girl I’ve never missed getting a Baum book for Christmas. I’m married, now, but am as eager to get and read the Oz stories as ever.” And still another writes: “My good wife and I, both more than seventy years of age, believe that we find more real enjoyment in your Oz books than in any other books we read.” Considering these statements, I wrote the college professor that my books are intended for all those whose hearts are young, no matter what their ages may be.

  I think I am justified in promising that there will be some astonishing revelations about The Magic of Oz in my book for 1919.

  Always your loving and grateful friend,

  L. Frank Baum, Royal Historian of Oz

  “Ozcot” at Hollywood in California, 1918

  Chapter 1

  WOOT the WANDERER

  he Tin Woodman sat on his glittering tin throne in the handsome tin hall of his splendid tin castle in the Winkie Country of the Land of Oz. Beside him, in a chair of woven straw, sat his best friend, the Scarecrow of Oz. At times they spoke to one another of curious things they had seen and strange adventures they had known since first they two had met and become comrades. But at times they were silent, for these things had been talked over many times between them, and they found themselves contented in merely being together, speaking now and then a brief sentence to prove they were wide awake and attentive. But then, these two quaint persons never slept. Why should they sleep, when they never tired?

  And now, as the brilliant sun sank low over the Winkie Country of Oz, tinting the glistening tin towers and tin minarets of the tin castle with glorious sunset hues, there approached along a winding pathway Woot the Wanderer, who met at the castle entrance a Winkie servant.

  The servants of the Tin Woodman all wore tin helmets and tin breastplates and uniforms covered with tiny tin discs sewed closely together on silver cloth, so that their bodies sparkled as beautifully as did the tin castle—and almost as beautifully as did the Tin Woodman himself.

  Woot the Wanderer looked at the man servant—all bright and glittering—and at the magnificent castle—all bright and glittering—and as he looked his eyes grew big with wonder. For Woot was not very big and not very old and, wanderer though he was, this proved the most gorgeous sight that had ever met his boyish gaze.

  “Who lives here?” he asked.

  “The Emperor of the Winkies, who is the famous Tin Woodman of Oz,” replied the servant, who had been trained to treat all strangers with courtesy.

  “A Tin Woodman? How queer!” exclaimed the little wanderer.

  “Well, perhaps our Emperor is queer,” admitted the servant; “but he is a kind master and as honest and true as good tin can make him; so we, who gladly serve him, are apt to forget that he is not like other people.”

  “May I see him?” asked Woot the Wanderer, after a moment’s thought.

  “If it please you to wait a moment, I
will go and ask him,” said the servant, and then he went into the hall where the Tin Woodman sat with his friend the Scarecrow. Both were glad to learn that a stranger had arrived at the castle, for this would give them something new to talk about, so the servant was asked to admit the boy at once.

  By the time Woot the Wanderer had passed through the grand corridors—all lined with ornamental tin—and under stately tin archways and through the many tin rooms all set with beautiful tin furniture, his eyes had grown bigger than ever and his whole little body thrilled with amazement. But, astonished though he was, he was able to make a polite bow before the throne and to say in a respectful voice: “I salute your Illustrious Majesty and offer you my humble services.”

  “Very good!” answered the Tin Woodman in his accustomed cheerful manner. “Tell me who you are, and whence you come.”

  “I am known as Woot the Wanderer,” answered the boy, “and I have come, through many travels and by roundabout ways, from my former home in a far corner of the Gillikin Country of Oz.”

  “To wander from one’s home,” remarked the Scarecrow, “is to encounter dangers and hardships, especially if one is made of meat and bone. Had you no friends in that corner of the Gillikin Country? Was it not homelike and comfortable?”

  To hear a man stuffed with straw speak, and speak so well, quite startled Woot, and perhaps he stared a bit rudely at the Scarecrow. But after a moment he replied:

  “I had home and friends, your Honorable Strawness, but they were so quiet and happy and comfortable that I found them dismally stupid. Nothing in that corner of Oz interested me, but I believed that in other parts of the country I would find strange people and see new sights, and so I set out upon my wandering journey. I have been a wanderer for nearly a full year, and now my wanderings have brought me to this splendid castle.”