Oz, The Complete Collection

by L. Frank Baum

  “I can’t guarantee anything like that,” declared the Fix, shaking his head.

  “Our roads go where they please, and you’ll have to go where they take you. Do you want to go on or off?”

  “On,” shivered the Cowardly Lion, looking with a shudder over the precipice at the end of the street.

  “What kind of a road will you have? Make up your minds, please. I am busy.”

  “What kind of roads have you?” asked Dorothy timidly. It was her first experience at buying roads, and she felt a bit perplexed.

  “Sunny, shady, straight, crooked, and cross-roads,” snapped the Fix.

  “We wouldn’t want a cross one,” said Dorothy positively. “Have you any with trees at both sides and water at the end?”

  “How many yards?” asked the Fix, taking a pair of shears as large as himself off a long counter beside him.

  “Five miles,” said Sir Hokus as Dorothy looked confused. “That ought to take us somewhere!”

  The Fix rang one of the bells in the counter. The next minute, a big trap door in the ground opened, and a perfectly huge roll bounced out at his feet.

  “Get on,” commanded the Fix in such a sharp tone that the three jumped to obey. Holding fast to Sir Hokus, Dorothy stepped on the piece of road that had already unrolled. The Cowardly Lion, looking very anxious, followed. No sooner had they done so than the road gave a terrific leap forward that stretched the three flat upon their backs and started unwinding from its spool at a terrifying speed. As it unrolled, tall trees snapped erect on each side and began laughing derisively at the three travelers huddled together in the middle.

  “G-g-glad we only took five miles,” stuttered Dorothy to the Knight, whose armor was rattling like a Ford.

  The Cowardly Lion had wound his tail around a tree and dug his claws into the road, for he had no intention of falling off into nothingness. As for the road, it snapped along at about a mile a minute, and before they had time to grow accustomed to this singular mode of travel, it gave a final jump that sent them circling into the air, and began rapidly winding itself up.

  Down, down, down whirled Dorothy, falling with a resounding splash into a broad stream of water. Then down, down, down again, almost to the bottom.

  “Help!” screamed Dorothy as her head rose above water, and she began striking out feebly. But the fall through the air had taken all her breath.

  “What do you want?” A thin, neat little man was watching her anxiously from the bank, making careful notes in a book that he held in one hand.

  “Help! Save me!” choked Dorothy, feeling herself going down in the muddy stream again.

  “Wait! I’ll look it up under the ‘H’s,” called the little man, making a trumpet of his hands. “Are you an island? An island is a body of land entirely surrounded by water, but this seems to be a some-body,” Dorothy heard him mutter as he whipped over several pages of his book. “Sorry,” he called back, shaking his head slowly, “but this is the wrong day. I only save lives on Monday.”

  “Stand aside, Mem, you villain!” A second little man exactly like the first except that he was exceedingly untidy plunged into the stream.

  “It’s no use,” thought Dorothy, closing her eyes, for he had jumped in far below the spot where she had fallen and was making no progress whatever. The waters rushed over her head the second time. Then she felt herself being dragged upward.

  When she opened her eyes, the Cowardly Lion was standing over her. “Are you all right?” he rumbled anxiously. “I came as soon as I could. Fell in way upstream. Seen Hokus?”

  “Oh, he’ll drown,” cried Dorothy, forgetting her own narrow escape. “He can’t swim in that heavy armor!”

  “Never fear, I’ll get him,” puffed the Cowardly Lion, and without waiting to catch his breath he plunged back into the stream. The little man who only saved lives on Monday now approached timidly. “I’d like to get a statement from you, if you don’t mind. It might help me in the future.”

  “You might have helped me in the present,” said Dorothy, wringing out her dress. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

  “I’ll make a note of that,” said the little man earnestly. “But how did you feel when you went down?” He waited, his pencil poised over the little book.

  “Go away,” cried Dorothy in disgust.

  “But my dear young lady—”

  “I’m not your dear young lady. Oh, dear, why doesn’t the Cowardly Lion come back?”

  “Go away, Mem.” The second little man, dripping wet, came up hurriedly.

  “I was only trying to get a little information,” grumbled Mem sulkily.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t swim faster,” said the wet little man, approaching Dorothy apologetically.

  “Well, thank you for trying,” said Dorothy. “Is he your brother? And could you tell me where you are? You’re dressed in yellow, so I ’spose it must be somewhere in the Winkie Country.”

  “Right in both cases,” chuckled the little fellow. “My name is Ran and his name is Memo.” He jerked his thumb at the retiring twin. “Randum and Memo—see?”

  “I think I do,” said Dorothy, half closing her eyes. “Is that why he’s always taking notes?”

  “Exactly,” said Ran. “I do everything at Random, and he does everything at memorandum.”

  “It must be rather confusing,” said Dorothy. Then as she caught sight of the Cowardly Lion dragging Sir Hokus, she jumped up excitedly. Ran, however, took one look at the huge beast and then fled, calling for Mem at the top of his voice. And that is the last Dorothy saw of these singular twins.

  The Lion dropped Sir Hokus in a limp heap. When Dorothy unfastened his armor, gallons of water rushed out.

  “Sho good of—of—you,” choked the poor Knight, trying to straighten up.

  “Save your breath, old fellow,” said the Cowardly Lion, regarding him affectionately.

  “Oh, why did I ask for water on the end of the road?” sighed Dorothy. “But, anyway, we’re in some part of the Winkie Country.”

  Sir Hokus, though still spluttering, was beginning to revive. “Yon noble bheast shall be knighted. Uds daggers! That’s the shecond time he’s shaved my life!” Rising unsteadily, he tottered over to the Lion and struck him a sharp blow on the shoulder. “Rishe, Shir Cowardly Lion,” he cried hoarsely, and fell headlong, and before Dorothy or the lion had recovered from their surprise he was fast asleep, mumbling happily of dragons and bludgeons.

  “We’ll have to wait till he gets rested,” said Dorothy. “And until I get dry.” She began running up and down, then stopped suddenly before the Lion.

  “And there’s something else for Professor Wogglebug to put in his book, Sir Cowardly Lion.”

  “Oh, that!” mumbled the Cowardly Lion, looking terribly embarrassed. “Whoever heard of a Cowardly Knight? Nonsense!”

  “No, it isn’t nonsense,” said Dorothy stoutly. “You’re a knight from now on. Won’t the Scarecrow be pleased?”

  “If we ever find him,” sighed the Lion, settling himself beside Sir Hokus.

  “We will,” said Dorothy gaily. “I just feel it.”

  Chapter 14

  SONS and GRANDSONS GREET the SCARECROW

  lthough the Scarecrow had been on Silver Islands only a few days, he had already instituted many reforms, and thanks to his cleverness the people were more prosperous than ever before. Cheers greeted him wherever he went, and even old Chew Chew was more agreeable and no longer made bitter remarks to Happy Toko. The Scarecrow himself, however, had four new wrinkles and was exceedingly melancholy. He missed the carefree life in Oz, and every minute that he was not ruling the island he was thinking about his old home and dear, jolly comrades in the Emerald City.

  “I almost hope they will look in the Magic Picture and wish me back again,” he mused pensively. “But it is my duty to stay here. I have a family to support.” So he resolved to put the best face he could on the matter, and Happy Toko did his utmost to cheer up his royal master.
The second morning after the great victory, he came running into the silver Throne Room in a great state of excitement.

  “The honorable Offspring have arriven!” announced Happy, turning a somersault. “Come, ancient and amiable Sir, and gaze upon your sons and grandsons!” The Scarecrow sprang joyously from his silver throne, upsetting a bowl of silver fish and three silver vases. At last a real family! Ever since his arrival, the three Princes and their fifteen little sons had been cruising on the royal pleasure barge, so that the Scarecrow had not caught a glimpse of them.

  “This is the happiest moment of my life!” he exclaimed, clasping his yellow gloves and watching the door intently. Happy looked a little uneasy, for he knew the three Princes to be exceedingly haughty and overbearing, but he said nothing, and next minute the Scarecrow’s family stepped solemnly into the royal presence.

  “Children!” cried the Scarecrow, and with his usual impetuousness rushed forward and flung his arms around the first richly clad Prince.

  “Take care! Take care, ancient and honorable papa!” cried the young Silverman, backing away. “Such excitement is not good for one of your advanced years.” He drew himself away firmly and, adjusting a huge pair of silver spectacles, regarded the Scarecrow attentively. “Ah, how you have changed!”

  “He looks very feeble, Too Fang, but may he live long to rule this flowery island and our humble selves!” said the second Prince, bowing stiffly.

  “Do you not find the affairs of state fatiguing, darling papa?” inquired the third Prince, fingering a jeweled chain that hung around his neck.

  “I, as your eldest son, shall be delighted to relieve you should you wish to retire. Get back ten paces, you!” he roared at Happy Toko.

  The poor Scarecrow had been so taken aback by this cool reception that he just stared in disbelief.

  “If the three honorable Princes will retire themselves, I will speak with my grandsons,” he said dryly, bowing in his most royal manner. The three Princes exchanged startled glances. Then, with three low salaams, they retired backward from the hall.

  “And now, my dears—!” The Scarecrow looked wistfully at his fifteen silken-clad little grandsons. Their silver hair, plaited tightly into little queues, stood out stiffly on each side of their heads and gave them a very curious appearance. At his first word, the fifteen fell dutifully on their noses. As soon as they were right side up, the Scarecrow, beginning at the end of the row, addressed a joking question to each in his most approved Oz style. But over they went again, and answered merely:

  “Yes, gracious Grandpapapapah!” or “No honorable Grandpapapapah!” And the constant bobbing up and down and papahing so confused the poor Scarecrow that he nearly gave up the conversation.

  “It’s no use trying to talk to these children,” he wailed in disgust, “they’re so solemn. Don’t you ever laugh?” he cried in exasperation, for he had told them stories that would have sent the Oz youngsters into hysterics.

  “It is not permissible for a Prince to laugh at the remarks of his honorable grandparent,” whispered Happy Toko, while the fifteen little Princes banged their heads solemnly on the floor.

  “Honorable fiddlesticks!” exclaimed the Scarecrow, slumping back on his throne. “Bring cushions.” Happy Toko ran off nimbly, and soon the fifteen little Princes were seated in a circle at the Scarecrow’s feet. “To prevent prostrations,” said the Scarecrow.

  “Yes, old Grandpapapapah!” chorused the Princes, bending over as far as they could.

  “Wait!” said the Scarecrow hastily, “I’ll tell you a story. Once upon a time, to a beautiful country called Oz, which is surrounded on all sides by a deadly desert, there came a little girl named Dorothy. A terrible gale—Well, what’s the matter now?” The Scarecrow stopped short, for the oldest Prince had jerked a book out of his sleeve and was flipping over the pages industriously.

  “It is not on the map, great Grandpapapapah,” he announced solemnly, and all of the other little Princes shook their heads and said dully, “Not on the map.”

  “Not on the map—Oz? Of course it’s not. Do you suppose we want all the humans in creation coming there?” Calming down, the Scarecrow tried to continue his story, but every time he mentioned Oz, the little Princes shook their heads stubbornly and whispered, “Not on the map,” till the usually good-tempered Scarecrow flew into perfect passion.

  “Not on the map, you little villains!” he screamed, forgetting they were his grandsons. “What difference does that make? Are your heads solid silver?”

  “We do not believe in Oz,” announced the oldest Prince serenely. “There is no such place.”

  “No such place as Oz—Happy, do you hear that?” The Scarecrow’s voice fairly crackled with indignation. “Why, I thought everybody believed in Oz!”

  “Perhaps your Highness can convince them later,” suggested the Imperial Punster. “This way, Offspring.” His Master, he felt, had had enough family for one day. So the fifteen little Princes, with fifteen stiff little bows, took themselves back to the royal nursery. As for the Scarecrow, he paced disconsolately up and down his magnificent Throne Room, tripping over his kimono at every other step.

  “You’re a good boy, Tappy,” said the Scarecrow as Happy returned, “but I tell you being a grandparent is not what I thought it would be. Did you hear them tell me right to my face they did not believe in Oz? And my sons—ugh!”

  “Fault of their bringing up,” said Happy Toko comfortingly. “If your serene Highness would just tell me more of that illustrious country!” Happy knew that nothing cheered the Scarecrow like talking of Oz, and to tell the truth Happy himself never tired of the Scarecrow’s marvelous stories. So the two slipped quietly into the palace gardens, and the Scarecrow related for the fourteenth time the story of his discovery by Dorothy and the story of Ozma, and almost forgot that he was an Emperor.

  “Your Highness knows the history of Oz by heart,” said Happy admiringly as the Scarecrow paused.

  “I couldn’t do that,” said the Scarecrow gently, “for you see, Happy, I have no heart.”

  “Then I wish we all had none!” exclaimed Happy Toko, rolling up his eyes. The Scarecrow looked embarrassed, so the little Punster threw back his head and sang a song he had been making up while the Scarecrow had been telling his stories:

  “The Scarecrow was standing alone in a field,

  Inviting the crows to keep off,

  When the straw in his chest began tickling his vest

  And he couldn’t resist a loud cough.

  “The noise that was heard so surprised ev’ry bird,

  That the flock flew away in a fright,

  But the Scarecrow looked pleased, and he said “If I’d sneezed

  It wouldn’t have been so polite.”

  “Ho!” roared the Scarecrow, “You’re almost as good at making verses as Scraps, Write that down for me, Tappy. I’d like to show it to her.”

  “Hush!” whispered Happy, holding up his finger warningly. The Scarecrow turned so suddenly that the silver pigtail pinned to the back of his hat wound itself tightly around his neck. No wonder! On the other side of the hedge the three Princes were walking up and down, conversing in indignant whispers.

  “What a horrible shape our honorable Papa has reappeared in. I hear that it never wears out,” muttered one. “He may continue just as he is for years and years. How am I ever to succeed him, I’d like to know. Why, he may outlive us all!”

  “We might throw him into the silver river,” said the second hopefully.

  “No use,” choked the third. “I was just talking to the Imperial Soothsayer, and he tells me that no one from this miserable Kingdom of Oz can be destroyed. But I have a plan. Incline your Royal ears—listen.” The voices dropped to such a low whisper that neither Happy nor the Scarecrow could hear one word.

  “Treason!” spluttered Happy, making ready to spring through the hedge, but the Scarecrow seized him by the arm and drew him away.

  “I don’t believe they like t
heir poor papa,” exclaimed the Scarecrow when they were safely back in the Throne Room. “I’m feeling older than a Kinkajou. Ah, Happy Oko, why did I ever slide down my family tree? It has brought me nothing but unhappiness.”

  Chapter 15

  The THREE PRINCES PLOT to UNDO the EMPEROR

  et me help your Imperial Serenity!”

  “Bring a cane!”

  “Carefully, now!”

  The three royal Princes, with every show of affection, were supporting the Scarecrow to the silver bench in the garden where he usually sat during luncheon.

  “Are you quite comfortable?” asked the elder. “Here, Happy, you rogue, fetch a scarf for his Imperial Highness. You must be careful, dear Papa Scarecrow. At your age, drafts are dangerous.” The rascally Prince wound the scarf about the Scarecrow’s neck.

  “What do you suppose they are up to?” asked the Scarecrow, staring after the three suspiciously. “Why this sudden devotion? It upsets my Imperial Serenity a lot.”

  “Trying to make you feel old,” grumbled Happy. Several hours had passed since they had overheard the conversation in the garden. The Scarecrow had decided to watch his sons closely and fall in with any plan they suggested so they would suspect nothing. Then, when the time came, he would act. Just what he would do he did not know, but his excellent brains would not, he felt sure, desert him. Happy Toko sat as close to the Scarecrow as he could and scowled terribly whenever the Princes approached, which was every minute or so during the afternoon.

  “How is the Scarecrow’s celestial old head?”

  “Does he suffer from honorable gout?”

  “Should they fetch the Imperial Doctor?”

  The Scarecrow, who had never thought of age in his whole straw life, became extremely nervous.

  Was he really old? Did his head ache? When no one was looking, he felt himself carefully all over. Then something of his old time Oz spirit returned. Seizing the cushion that his eldest son was placing at his back, he hurled it over his head. Leaping from his throne, he began turning handsprings in a careless and sprightly manner.