Complete Works of L. Frank Baum

by L. Frank Baum

  “What is queer about it?” asked Scraps.

  “You, for instance,” said he.

  “Did you see no girls as beautiful as I am in your own country?” she inquired.

  “None with the same gorgeous, variegated beauty,” he confessed. “In America a girl stuffed with cotton wouldn’t be alive, nor would anyone think of making a girl out of a patchwork quilt.”

  “What a queer country America must be!” she exclaimed in great surprise. “The Scarecrow, whom you say is wise, told me I am the most beautiful creature he has ever seen.”

  “I know; and perhaps you are — from a scarecrow point of view,” replied the Shaggy Man; but why he smiled as he said it Scraps could not imagine.

  As they drew nearer to the Emerald City the travelers were filled with admiration for the splendid scenery they beheld. Handsome houses stood on both sides of the road and each had a green lawn before it as well as a pretty flower garden.

  “In another hour,” said the Shaggy Man, “we shall come in sight of the walls of the Royal City.”

  He was walking ahead, with Scraps, and behind them came the Woozy and the Glass Cat. Ojo had lagged behind, for in spite of the warnings he had received the boy’s eyes were fastened on the clover that bordered the road of yellow bricks and he was eager to discover if such a thing as a six-leaved clover really existed.

  Suddenly he stopped short and bent over to examine the ground more closely. Yes; here at last was a clover with six spreading leaves. He counted them carefully, to make sure. In an instant his heart leaped with joy, for this was one of the important things he had come for — one of the things that would restore dear Unc Nunkie to life.

  He glanced ahead and saw that none of his companions was looking back. Neither were any other people about, for it was midway between two houses. The temptation was too strong to be resisted.

  “I might search for weeks and weeks, and never find another six-leaved clover,” he told himself, and quickly plucking the stem from the plant he placed the prized clover in his basket, covering it with the other things he carried there. Then, trying to look as if nothing had happened, he hurried forward and overtook his comrades.

  The Emerald City, which is the most splendid as well as the most beautiful city in any fairyland, is surrounded by a high, thick wall of green marble, polished smooth and set with glistening emeralds. There are four gates, one facing the Munchkin Country, one facing the Country of the Winkies, one facing the Country of the Quadlings and one facing the Country of the Gillikins. The Emerald City lies directly in the center of these four important countries of Oz. The gates had bars of pure gold, and on either side of each gateway were built high towers, from which floated gay banners. Other towers were set at distances along the walls, which were broad enough for four people to walk abreast upon.

  This enclosure, all green and gold and glittering with precious gems, was indeed a wonderful sight to greet our travelers, who first observed it from the top of a little hill; but beyond the wall was the vast city it surrounded, and hundreds of jeweled spires, domes and minarets, flaunting flags and banners, reared their crests far above the towers of the gateways. In the center of the city our friends could see the tops of many magnificent trees, some nearly as tall as the spires of the buildings, and the Shaggy Man told them that these trees were in the royal gardens of Princess Ozma.

  They stood a long time on the hilltop, feasting their eyes on the splendor of the Emerald City.

  “Whee!” exclaimed Scraps, clasping her padded hands in ecstacy, “that’ll do for me to live in, all right. No more of the Munchkin Country for these patches — and no more of the Crooked Magician!”

  “Why, you belong to Dr. Pipt,” replied Ojo, looking at her in amazement. “You were made for a servant, Scraps, so you are personal property and not your own mistress.”

  “Bother Dr. Pipt! If he wants me, let him come here and get me. I’ll not go back to his den of my own accord; that’s certain. Only one place in the Land of Oz is fit to live in, and that’s the Emerald City. It’s lovely! It’s almost as beautiful as I am, Ojo.”

  “In this country,” remarked the Shaggy Man, “people live wherever our Ruler tells them to. It wouldn’t do to have everyone live in the Emerald City, you know, for some must plow the land and raise grains and fruits and vegetables, while others chop wood in the forests, or fish in the rivers, or herd the sheep and the cattle.”

  “Poor things!” said Scraps.

  “I’m not sure they are not happier than the city people,” replied the Shaggy Man. “There’s a freedom and independence in country life that not even the Emerald City can give one. I know that lots of the city people would like to get back to the land. The Scarecrow lives in the country, and so do the Tin Woodman and Jack Pumpkinhead; yet all three would be welcome to live in Ozma’s palace if they cared to. Too much splendor becomes tiresome, you know. But, if we’re to reach the Emerald City before sundown, we must hurry, for it is yet a long way off.”

  The entrancing sight of the city had put new energy into them all and they hurried forward with lighter steps than before. There was much to interest them along the roadway, for the houses were now set more closely together and they met a good many people who were coming or going from one place or another. All these seemed happy-faced, pleasant people, who nodded graciously to the strangers as they passed, and exchanged words of greeting.

  At last they reached the great gateway, just as the sun was setting and adding its red glow to the glitter of the emeralds on the green walls and spires. Somewhere inside the city a band could be heard playing sweet music; a soft, subdued hum, as of many voices, reached their ears; from the neighboring yards came the low mooing of cows waiting to be milked.

  They were almost at the gate when the golden bars slid back and a tall soldier stepped out and faced them. Ojo thought he had never seen so tall a man before. The soldier wore a handsome green and gold uniform, with a tall hat in which was a waving plume, and he had a belt thickly encrusted with jewels. But the most peculiar thing about him was his long green beard, which fell far below his waist and perhaps made him seem taller than he really was.

  “Halt!” said the Soldier with the Green Whiskers, not in a stern voice but rather in a friendly tone.

  They halted before he spoke and stood looking at him.

  “Good evening, Colonel,” said the Shaggy Man. “What’s the news since I left? Anything important?”

  “Billina has hatched out thirteen new chickens,” replied the Soldier with the Green Whiskers, “and they’re the cutest little fluffy yellow balls you ever saw. The Yellow Hen is mighty proud of those children, I can tell you.”

  “She has a right to be,” agreed the Shaggy Man. “Let me see; that’s about seven thousand chicks she has hatched out; isn’t it, General?”

  “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 wilfully 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.

  15 Ozma’s Prisoner

  THE 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 Gate 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 Gate. 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 Gate. “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.

  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 th
e 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.