They looked once more for Ozma, but the hole was now absolutely vacant. It was a round hole, so from the top they could plainly see every part of it. Before they left the place Dorothy went to the Bear King and said:
“I’m sorry we couldn’t believe what the little Pink Bear said, ‘cause we don’t want to make you feel bad by doubting him. There must be a mistake, somewhere, and we prob’ly don’t understand just what the little Pink Bear means. Will you let me ask him one more question?”
The Lavender Bear King was a good-natured bear, considering how he was made and stuffed and jointed, so he accepted Dorothy’s apology and turned the crank and allowed the little girl to question his wee Pink Bear.
“Is Ozma really in this hole?” asked Dorothy.
“No,” said the little Pink Bear.
This surprised everybody. Even the Bear King was now puzzled by the contradictory statements of his oracle.
“Where is she?” asked the King.
“Here, among you,” answered the little Pink Bear.
“Well,” said Dorothy, “this beats me, entirely! I guess the little Pink Bear has gone crazy.”
“Perhaps,” called Scraps, who was rapidly turning “cart-wheels” all around the perplexed group, “Ozma is invisible.”
“Of course!” cried Betsy. “That would account for it.”
“Well, I’ve noticed that people can speak, even when they’ve been made invisible,” said the Wizard. And then he looked all around him and said in a solemn voice: “Ozma, are you here?”
There was no reply. Dorothy asked the question, too, and so did Button-Bright and Trot and Betsy; but none received any reply at all.
“It’s strange — it’s terrible strange!” muttered Cayke the Cookie Cook. “I was sure that the little Pink Bear always tells the truth.”
“I still believe in his honesty,” said the Frogman, and this tribute so pleased the Bear King that he gave these last speakers grateful looks, but still gazed sourly on the others.
“Come to think of it,” remarked the Wizard, “Ozma couldn’t be invisible, for she is a fairy and fairies cannot be made invisible against their will. Of course she could be imprisoned by the magician, or even enchanted, or transformed, in spite of her fairy powers; but Ugu could not render her invisible by any magic at his command.”
“I wonder if she’s been transformed into Button-Bright?” said Dorothy nervously. Then she looked steadily at the boy and asked: “Are you Ozma? Tell me truly!”
Button-Bright laughed.
“You’re getting rattled, Dorothy,” he replied. “Nothing ever enchants me. If I were Ozma, do you think I’d have tumbled into that hole?”
“Anyhow,” said the Wizard, “Ozma would never try to deceive her friends, or prevent them from recognizing her, in whatever form she happened to be. The puzzle is still a puzzle, so let us go on to the wicker castle and question the magician himself. Since it was he who stole our Ozma, Ugu is the one who must tell us where to find her.”
CHAPTER 21
The Wizard’s
advice was good, so
again they started
in the direction of
the low mountain on the crest of which the wicker castle had been built. They had been gradually advancing up hill, so now the elevation seemed to them more like a round knoll than a mountain-top. However, the sides of the knoll were sloping and covered with green grass, so there was a stiff climb before them yet.
Undaunted, they plodded on and had almost reached the knoll when they suddenly observed that it was surrounded by a circle of flame. At first the flames barely rose above the ground, but presently they grew higher and higher until a circle of flaming tongues of fire taller than any of their heads quite surrounded the hill on which the wicker castle stood. When they approached the flames the heat was so intense that it drove them back again.
“This will never do for me!” exclaimed the Patchwork Girl. “I catch fire very easily.”
“It won’t do for me, either,” grumbled the Sawhorse, prancing to the rear.
“I also object strongly to fire,” said the Bear King, following the Sawhorse to a safe distance and hugging the little Pink Bear with his paws.
“I suppose the foolish Shoemaker imagines these blazes will stop us,” remarked the Wizard, with a smile of scorn for Ugu. “But I am able to inform you that this is merely a simple magic trick which the robber stole from Glinda the Good, and by good fortune I know how to destroy these flames, as well as how to produce them. Will some one of you kindly give me a match?”
You may be sure the girls carried no matches, nor did the Frogman or Cayke or any of the animals. But Button-Bright, after searching carefully through his pockets, which contained all sorts of useful and useless things, finally produced a match and handed it to the Wizard, who tied it to the end of a branch which he tore from a small tree growing near them. Then the little Wizard carefully lighted the match and running forward thrust it into the nearest flame. Instantly the circle of fire began to die away and soon vanished completely, leaving the way clear for them to proceed.
“That was funny!” laughed Button-Bright.
“Yes,” agreed the Wizard, “it seems odd that a little match could destroy such a great circle of fire, but when Glinda invented this trick she believed no one would ever think of a match being a remedy for fire. I suppose even Ugu doesn’t know how we managed to quench the flames of his barrier, for only Glinda and I know the secret. Glinda’s Book of Magic, which Ugu stole, told how to make the flames, but not how to put them out.”
They now formed in marching order and proceeded to advance up the slope of the hill; but had not gone far when before them rose a wall of steel, the surface of which was thickly covered with sharp, gleaming points resembling daggers. The wall completely surrounded the wicker castle and its sharp points prevented anyone from climbing it. Even the Patchwork Girl might be ripped to pieces if she dared attempt it.
“Ah!” exclaimed the Wizard cheerfully, “Ugu is now using one of my own tricks against me. But this is more serious than the Barrier of Fire, because the only way to destroy the wall is to get on the other side of it.”
“How can that be done?” asked Dorothy.
The Wizard looked thoughtfully around his little party and his face grew troubled.
“It’s a pretty high wall,” he sadly remarked. “I’m pretty sure the Cowardly Lion could not leap over it.”
“I’m sure of that, too!” said the Lion with a shudder of fear. “If I foolishly tried such a leap I would be caught on those dreadful spikes.”
“I think I could do it, sir,” said the Frogman, with a bow to the Wizard. “It is an up-hill jump, as well as being a high jump, but I’m considered something of a jumper by my friends in the Yip Country and I believe a good strong leap will carry me to the other side.”
“I’m sure it would,” agreed the Cookie Cook.
“Leaping, you know, is a froglike accomplishment,” continued the Frogman, modestly, “but please tell me what I am to do when I reach the other side of the wall.”
“You’re a brave creature,” said the Wizard, admiringly. “Has anyone a pin?”
Betsy had one, which she gave him.
“All you need do,” said the Wizard to the Frogman, giving him the pin, “is to stick this into the other side of the wall.”
“But the wall is of steel!” exclaimed the big frog.
“I know; at least, it seems to be steel; but do as I tell you. Stick the pin into the wall and it will disappear.”
The Frogman took off his handsome coat and carefully folded it and laid it on the grass. Then he removed his hat and laid it, together with his gold-headed cane, beside the coat. He then went back a way and made three powerful leaps, in rapid succession. The first two leaps took him to the wall and the third leap carried him well over it, to the amazement of all. For a short time he disappeared from their view, but when he had obeyed the Wizard’s injunction and had thrust the p
in into the wall, the huge barrier vanished and showed them the form of the Frogman, who now went to where his coat lay and put it on again.
“We thank you very much,” said the delighted Wizard. “That was the most wonderful leap I ever saw and it has saved us from defeat by our enemy. Let us now hurry on to the castle before Ugu the Shoemaker thinks of some other means to stop us.”
“We must have surprised him, so far,” declared Dorothy.
“Yes, indeed. The fellow knows a lot of magic — all of our tricks and some of his own,” replied the Wizard. “So, if he is half as clever as he ought to be, we shall have trouble with him yet.”
He had scarcely spoken these words when out from the gates of the wicker castle marched a regiment of soldiers, clad in gay uniforms and all bearing long, pointed spears and sharp battle-axes. These soldiers were girls, and the uniforms were short skirts of yellow and black satin, golden shoes, bands of gold across their foreheads and necklaces of glittering jewels. Their jackets were scarlet, braided with silver cords. There were hundreds of these girl-soldiers, and they were more terrible than beautiful, being strong and fierce in appearance. They formed a circle all around the castle and faced outward, their spears pointed toward the invaders and their battle-axes held over their shoulders, ready to strike.
Of course our friends halted at once, for they had not expected this dreadful array of soldiery. The Wizard seemed puzzled and his companions exchanged discouraged looks.
“I’d no idea Ugu had such an army as that,” said Dorothy. “The castle doesn’t look big enough to hold them all.”
“It isn’t,” declared the Wizard.
“But they all marched out of it.”
“They seemed to; but I don’t believe it is a real army at all. If Ugu the Shoemaker had so many people living with him, I’m sure the Czarover of Herku would have mentioned the fact to us.”
“They’re only girls!” laughed Scraps.
“Girls are the fiercest soldiers of all,” declared the Frogman. “They are more brave than men and they have better nerves. That is probably why the magician uses them for soldiers and has sent them to oppose us.”
No one argued this statement, for all were staring hard at the line of soldiers, which now, having taken a defiant position, remained motionless.
“Here is a trick of magic new to me,” admitted the Wizard, after a time. “I do not believe the army is real, but the spears may be sharp enough to prick us, nevertheless, so we must be cautious. Let us take time to consider how to meet this difficulty.”
While they were thinking it over Scraps danced closer to the line of girl soldiers. Her button eyes sometimes saw more than did the natural eyes of her comrades and so, after staring hard at the magician’s army, she boldly advanced and danced right through the threatening line! On the other side she waved her stuffed arms and called out:
“Come on, folks. The spears can’t hurt you.”
“Ah!” said the Wizard, gayly, “an optical illusion, as I thought. Let us all follow the Patchwork Girl.”
The three little girls were somewhat nervous in attempting to brave the spears and battle-axes, but after the others had safely passed the line they ventured to follow. And, when all had passed through the ranks of the girl army, the army itself magically disappeared from view.
All this time our friends had been getting farther up the hill and nearer to the wicker castle. Now, continuing their advance, they expected something else to oppose their way, but to their astonishment nothing happened and presently they arrived at the wicker gates, which stood wide open, and boldly entered the domain of Ugu the Shoemaker.
CHAPTER 22
No sooner were the
Wizard of Oz and
his followers well
within the castle
entrance when the big gates swung to with a clang and heavy bars dropped across them. They looked at one another uneasily, but no one cared to speak of the incident. If they were indeed prisoners in the wicker castle it was evident they must find a way to escape, but their first duty was to attend to the errand on which they had come and seek the Royal Ozma, whom they believed to be a prisoner of the magician, and rescue her.
They found they had entered a square courtyard, from which an entrance led into the main building of the castle. No person had appeared to greet them, so far, although a gaudy peacock, perched upon the wall, cackled with laughter and said in its sharp, shrill voice: “Poor fools! Poor fools!”
“I hope the peacock is mistaken,” remarked the Frogman, but no one else paid any attention to the bird. They were a little awed by the stillness and loneliness of the place.
As they entered the doors of the castle, which stood invitingly open, these also closed behind them and huge bolts shot into place. The animals had all accompanied the party into the castle, because they felt it would be dangerous for them to separate. They were forced to follow a zigzag passage, turning this way and that, until finally they entered a great central hall, circular in form and with a high dome from which was suspended an enormous chandelier.
The Wizard went first, and Dorothy, Betsy and Trot followed him, Toto keeping at the heels of his little mistress. Then came the Lion, the Woozy and the Sawhorse; then Cayke the Cookie Cook and Button-Bright; then the Lavender Bear carrying the Pink Bear, and finally the Frogman and the Patchwork Girl, with Hank the Mule tagging behind. So it was the Wizard who caught the first glimpse of the big domed hall, but the others quickly followed and gathered in a wondering group just within the entrance.
Upon a raised platform at one side was a heavy table on which lay Glinda’s Great Book of Records; but the platform was firmly fastened to the floor and the table was fastened to the platform and the Book was chained fast to the table — just as it had been when it was kept in Glinda’s palace. On the wall over the table hung Ozma’s Magic Picture. On a row of shelves at the opposite side of the hall stood all the chemicals and essences of magic and all the magical instruments that had been stolen from Glinda and Ozma and the Wizard, with glass doors covering the shelves so that no one could get at them.
And in a far corner sat Ugu the Shoemaker, his feet lazily extended, his skinny hands clasped behind his head. He was leaning back at his ease and calmly smoking a long pipe. Around the magician was a sort of cage, seemingly made of golden bars set wide apart, and at his feet — also within the cage — reposed the long-sought diamond-studded dishpan of Cayke the Cookie Cook.
Princess Ozma of Oz was nowhere to be seen.
“Well, well,” said Ugu, when the invaders had stood in silence for a moment, staring about them, “this visit is an expected pleasure, I assure you. I knew you were coming and I know why you are here. You are not welcome, for I cannot use any of you to my advantage, but as you have insisted on coming I hope you will make the afternoon call as brief as possible. It won’t take long to transact your business with me. You will ask me for Ozma, and my reply will be that you may find her — if you can.”
“Sir,” answered the Wizard, in a tone of rebuke, “you are a very wicked and cruel person. I suppose you imagine, because you have stolen this poor woman’s dishpan and all the best magic in Oz, that you are more powerful than we are and will be able to triumph over us.”
“Yes,” said Ugu the Shoemaker, slowly filling his pipe with fresh tobacco from a silver bowl that stood beside him, “that is exactly what I imagine. It will do you no good to demand from me the girl who was formerly the Ruler of Oz, because I will not tell you where I have hidden her — and you can’t guess in a thousand years. Neither will I restore to you any of the magic I have captured. I am not so foolish. But bear this in mind: I mean to be the Ruler of Oz myself, hereafter, so I advise you to be careful how you address your future Monarch.”
“Ozma is still Ruler of Oz, wherever you may have hidden her,” declared the Wizard. “And bear this in mind, miserable Shoemaker: We intend to find her and to rescue her, in time, but our first duty and pleasure will be to conquer yo
u and then punish you for your misdeeds.”
“Very well; go ahead and conquer,” said Ugu. “I’d really like to see how you can do it.”
Now, although the little Wizard had spoken so boldly, he had at the moment no idea how they might conquer the magician. He had that morning given the Frogman, at his request, a dose of zosozo from his bottle, and the Frogman had promised to fight a good fight if it was necessary; but the Wizard knew that strength alone could not avail against magical arts. The toy Bear King seemed to have some pretty good magic, however, and the Wizard depended to an extent on that. But something ought to be done right away, and the Wizard didn’t know what it was.
While he considered this perplexing question and the others stood looking at him as their leader, a queer thing happened. The floor of the great circular hall, on which they were standing, suddenly began to tip. Instead of being flat and level it became a slant, and the slant grew steeper and steeper until none of the party could manage to stand upon it. Presently they all slid down to the wall, which was now under them, and then it became evident that the whole vast room was slowly turning upside down! Only Ugu the Shoemaker, kept in place by the bars of his golden cage, remained in his former position, and the wicked magician seemed to enjoy the surprise of his victims immensely.
First, they all slid down to the wall back of them, but as the room continued to turn over they next slid down the wall and found themselves at the bottom of the great dome, bumping against the big chandelier which, like everything else, was now upside-down.
The turning movement now stopped and the room became stationary. Looking far up, they saw Ugu suspended in his cage at the very top, which had once been the floor.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 159
