“Something’s got to happen,” declared the Scarecrow; “it always does. Something happened the minute we arrived. Now follow me, and we’ll explore this strange place.”
So they walked around the enclosure, and presently discovered a placard announcing a series of athletic games, which the educated Woggle-Bug read to his astonished friends. Also they chanced upon a number of dumb-bells, which delighted the Tin Woodman greatly. But while he amused his friends by lifting and juggling the dumb-bells, a strange sound ‹ like the roar of waters ‹ was heard,and Wash White, a colored groundskeeper with a track roller, appeared upon the scene, still half asleep and not noting the group of queer people that stood in the enclosure. The Sawhorse reared so wildly that he nearly dislocated Jack’s wooden joints, and the others were equally startled at the sudden appearance of the wonderful jet-black Man of Flesh. Their cries caused sleepy Wash White to open his eyes, and what he saw made him yell with fear and run like the wind to the entrances, through which he escaped.
“What’s the matter?” asked a Guard, who was tying his necktie.
“Matteh ‘nuff!” screamed Wash, trembling. “I’s seed de debbil an’ all his relations!”
In the meantime our friends from Oz had captured the track-roller and formed a procession to explore the place. For not one of the party could guess where they were, and all were, and all were more or less uneasy at being so soon lost in a strange land. As they reached the entrance to the enclosure the Guard, trying hard not to believe in Wash White’s “debbils” advanced with drawn club and chattering teeth and commanded them to halt.
At this instant the truth burst upon the Woggle-Bug, who cried in a loud voice: “I know where we are!”
“Where?” asked the Scarecrow, and the Woggle-Bug leaned close to his ear and said something in a whisper.
“Oh yes!” exclaimed the Scarecrow, nodding his head cheerfully, “how stupid of us not to have guessed!” Then he turned to his friend and said: “Come on, comrades. We’ve found ourselves again. We’re at the stadium Athletic Field at the Louisiana Purchase Exposition in St. Louis, Missouri, in the United States of America, and the year is 1904.”
HOW THE TIN WOODMAN ESCAPED THE MAGIC FLOOD
It was now that the true mettle of the adventurers from the Marvelous Land of Oz was clearly shown. Undaunted by the strange sights of this strange United States, they decided to explore the country thoroughly ‹ in the same way Columbus once did.
Soon they came to a series of small waterfalls tumbling downward in pretty cascades from a tall building on the brow of a hill. There was not much water in the channel just then, but the marble banks were broad and deep enough to contain a river
The Tin Woodman, seeing some pipes protrude from the bed of the stream, became curious to know what these queer-looking things were used for, and bravely ventured forth to explore and examine them. After a brief inspection he turned to his comrades upon the bank and said: “My dear friends, the pipes were doubtlessly placed here to ‹ “
He got no further in his speech, for suddenly some hidden power turned on a monstrous flow of water; the pipes spouted a deluge upon the poor Tin Woodman, who ‹ amidst the plaudits of his friends, who thought he had himself caused this mighty flood ‹ was swept off his feet and borne swiftly down the stream.
In his terror the Tin Woodman clutched at Jack Pumpkinhead to save himself; but alas! the pumpkin came away in his grasp, and falling into the flood, floated along in his wake. Seeing now that something was seriously wrong, the thoughtful Scarecrow began running along the bank, hoping to find a way to save his friend, and the others followed him. Finding he was about to sink, the Tin Woodman, with great presence of mind, caught at Jack’s pumpkinhead, which floated near, and used it as a life-preserver to sustain him; for otherwise the tin of which he was made would have forced him to the bottom, to become forever rusted and useless.
Finally the wise Woggle-Bug, being a swifter runner than the others, managed to seize the Tin Woodman with two of his hands, while with the other two he cleverly rescued Jack’s pumpkin head, bringing both the unfortunates to dry land. Then, when the Tin Woodman sank down exhausted, but saved, at the feet of his faithful friends, the Scarecrow affectionately supported him and supplied him with quantities of oil to prevent his joints from becoming rusted, and to soothe and restore him to his usual vigor. Jack’s head being replaced, that personage also found himself to be in perfect condition, so throughout the little party of adventurers the moments of intense excitement gave way to joy and thanksgiving.
“Where am I?” suddenly asked the Tin Woodman, raising his head. But none was able to reply until the discerning Woggle-Bug, whose bright eyes nothing seemed to escape, made the answer: “I’ll tell you in a minute.”
And then, while all the party grouped around him and listened intently, the Woggle-Bug told them, “This is the famous man-made Cascades, fountains of the Louisiana Purchase Exposition.”
HOW THE STRANGERS FOUND THEMSELVES BETWEEN THE AUTO AND THE DEEP SEA
Once on a day the queer people from the Land of Oz arrived upon the seashore, where they gazed with much wonder at the vast expanse of water. Indeed, the unusual sight made them all rather timid, especially the Sawhorse; and the Tin Woodman exclaimed with a shudder: “It makes me feel rusty just to look at so much wet and dampness.”
At that instant their eyes discovered a peculiar boat afloat far out among the waves. It was neither upon nor under the water, but partially submerged: and, after carefully inspecting it, the Woggle-Bug declared: “It’s what they call a submarine boat, and can float both under water and upon it.”
“What flag is that upon the masthead?” inquired the Scarecrow.
“I can’t tell what nation it belongs to,” replied the educated insect, “because the wind blows it so many different ways that it hides the design.”
“Still,” said the Pumpkinhead, “I’d like to know what country has designs upon this coast,” and he tried to urge the Sawhorse nearer to the water. But the wooden steed seemed to regard the strange boat with fear, and refused to obey its rider, backing away with a haste that threatened to splinter its maple legs. So the Scarecrow, with rare presence of mind, cast a long rope about the neck of the frightened Sawhorse, to which they all clung in order to restrain his excited actions. “Do try to control yourself,” said the Tin Woodman, in a reproachful voice. “I assure you there is nothing to be afraid of.”
Before the Sawhorse could reply a horrible shriek rent the air clanging and groaning and wheezing as might well startle the stoutest nerves. The Woggle-Bug was trembling like a leaf; the Pumpkinhead gasped so hard that he coughed out three seeds; the Tin Woodman looked as if he were going to tarnish and moistened his tongue with a spurt of oil from his can, while the straw within the Scarecrow rustled as if stirred by a brisk breeze. As for the Sawhorse, terror deprived him of all reason and, as the huge automobile that had caused such consternation shot by them, the wooden steed forgot his fear of the great water and the submarine boat, and, rearing high in the air, he first threw Jack Pumpkinhead from his back and the bolted away with such vigor that all the party holding the rope was dragged over the beach and plunged headlong into the surf.
Fortunately, they were all able to scramble to dry land again. The automobile was out of sight and hearing, and the cold plunge having restored the Sawhorse to his senses, the animal soon regained his usual self-possession.
“We shall quickly dry in this sunshine,” said the Tin Woodman, encouragingly; and then he again noticed the boat and added, “I really wonder what nation that flag belongs to!” As he spoke, a strong breeze fluttered the flag out from the mast and the Woggle-Bug’s sharp eyes quickly made out the design.
“I know,” exclaimed the insect, greatly pleased. “Tell me,” pleaded the Tin Woodman, and the Woggle-Bug obligingly whispered the information in his tin ear.
“Would you mind telling the rest of us what the Woggle-Bug said?” the Scarecrow asked his frie
nd, somewhat stiffly.
“Guess!” answered the Tin Woodman with a laugh. “That’s what all the children will have to do!” But after all had failed to guess, he told them that it was the Naval flag of Germany.
HOW UNCLE ELI LAUGHED TOO SOON
Now it happened that while the travelers from the Marvelous Land of Oz were going along a country road, the Tin Woodman discovered a queer looking object suspended from the limb of a tree.
“How curious!” exclaimed the Scarecrow. “This must be one of those peculiar fruits which grow in this magical land of America. Let us pluck it.”
“No; don’t touch it, I beg of you!” cried the wise Woggle-Bug, in a horrified tone. “It’s one of those awful hornets’ nests.”
But already the Tin Woodman had thrust a tin finger into the nest, and now the angry hornets swarmed out and circled in great numbers around the adventurers. Our friends stood still and watched the little hornets with much interest for they were made of material that could not be stung. The Woggle-Bug was, of course, an exception; but his wisdom led him to do exactly the right thing.He sprang into the Gump and ordered that obedient creature to fly with him to a safe distance, beyond the brow of a neighboring hill.
All this had been watched with great amusement by old Uncle Eli, whose farm lay just across the road. Eli had never heard of the queer people from Oz, because ‹ as he said ‹ he never had any time to waste reading newspapers; so at first he thought some circus had broken loose, and approached the fence in order to get a free sight of the entertainment.
“Why, the dumb fools!” said Uncle Eli, “they’re monkeyin’ with that there hornets’ nest!” And the thought of all the trouble the strangers were innocently encouraging was so pleasing to the farmer that he bent himself nearly double and fairly screamed with laughter.
“B’gosh!” roared Uncle Eli, wiping the tears of joy from his eyes with his chin whiskers, “the critters’ll git stinged ‘til they’ve got as many knobs on ‘emas cucumbers!”
But the sound of his laughter had attracted the attention of the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodman, Jack Pumpkinhead, and the animated Sawhorse, and all these turned from the maddened hornets and pressed close to the fence to examine Uncle Eli. The hornets naturally swarmed with them, and thus discovering the old farmer, they at once decided that he was a victim much easier to sting than the people of straw and tin and wood. So they settled down upon Uncle Eli by the hundred, turning his chuckling laughter into howls of fear and distress. He amazed the good folks of Oz by jumping frantically up and down, swinging his arms like a windmill, and finally dashing away at a speed that made the Sawhorse envious. And every hornet followed after him.
“He has forgotten his rake,” said the observant Scarecrow; “so I think I’ll go and get it.” With these words he climbed the fence into the field, and the Tin Woodman did likewise, for his glittering eyes had noticed a strange plant growing upon some vines nearby.
“How very odd!” said he, kicking the vines with his foot, and thereby detaching several of the peculiar formations that grew upon them. “I wonder what this plant is called?”
The Woggle-Bug, finding that the hornets had flown away, by this time had rejoined the party; and he was about to answer the Tin Woodman’s question when suddenly from amid the vines a number of streams began to squirt ‹ like those from miniature fire-engines ‹ and these struck the Tin Woodman, Jack Pumpkinhead and the Scarecrow and almost deluged them with a sticky fluid. Even the Sawhorse, which stood in the road, received a slight sprinkling.
“More magic!” exclaimed the Tin Woodman, as he ran to a safer and drier spot. “Event the plants are enchanted in this wonderful United States.”
“You were very foolish to touch those vines,” declared the Woggle-Bug.
“True; but what are they?” asked the Scarecrow, recovering from his astonishment.
Whereupon the Woggle-Bug obligingly told him; and, of course, the children who read this will have no trouble guessing that the Woggle-Bug said that they were called Squirting Cucumbers.
HOW THE SCARECROW AND TIN WOODMAN MET SOME OLD FRIENDS
No doubt every child that has followed the adventures in the United States of the living Scarecrow and the other queer people from the Land of Oz has been struck by the singular fact that everything here seems as wonderful to them as they themselves are wonderful to us. In their own fairyland they accomplish things by simple magic which we have to accomplish by complicated mechanical inventions. It is not a strange thing to them to bring a wooden Sawhorse to life by means of a magic powder; but an automobile (which is even more wonderful than a living Sawhorse) filled their simple minds with wonder. On the contrary, the Gump ‹ a carelessly made creature at best ‹ could fly much better than any of our recently invented and carefully planned flying-machines. But the latter astonished the Ozites because, not being alive, they could do so much by means of machinery alone. So perhaps the United States is, after all, as great a fairyland as the kingdom of Oz, if we look at the matter in the right way.
These strangers in our country are learning something new every day, and undergoing adventures that, while perhaps rather tame had they happened to any one of us, are very exciting to the Scarecrow and his comrades.
It was only the other day that they took a long ride in the Gump, which carried them so swiftly away from the scenes of their previous exploits that presently a vast prairie spread beneath them, and had they been better posted in our geography they might have known they had reached the great State of Kansas.
“Let us alight here,” said the Woggle-Bug. “Would it not be better to see what lies beyond the prairie?” asked the Scarecrow.
“Perhaps; but I’d like to see what an American farm is like,” replied the Insect.
“So would I,” added Jack Pumpkinhead. “If they grow pumpkins here I might get a new head. It strikes me that this one is not so fresh as it might be.”
“But its alive, which a new one would not be,” remarked the Tin Woodman, “and I can imagine a no more disagreeable feeling than to have a lifeless head upon a live body.”
“Nevertheless,” said the Woggle-Bug, “our friend Jack may well be interested in his own species. I, who have much more excuse for being alive than any of you ‹ since I was born living ‹ can sympathize with poor Jack. The seeds of discontent are in his brain. Let me alight and prove to him how much better off he is than all other pumpkins.”
So, the Scarecrow consenting, they ordered the Gump to settle down slowly upon the prairie, which the creature did, coming to a halt at a spot near to a comfortable looking farmhouse. A man who was reaping in a field gazed upon the strange Gump with amazement; a woman who was hanging out clothes in the yard was so frightened that she dropped everything and rushed for the cyclone-cellar; and a little girl, followed by a black, curly dog, stood in the door of the house and shaded her eyes with her hand as she looked earnestly at the fluttering palm-leaf wings of the Gump. The Scarecrow and Tin Woodman decided to remain aboard, so Jack climbed over the side of the sofa that formed the body of the Gump and stood upon the ground. But the dog, now barking fiercely, rushed across from the house and began to bite the wooden legs of the Pumpkinhead.
“Call him off!” exclaimed Jack, who was trying to help the Sawhorse out of the Gump.
“I can’t, for I don’t know what to call him,” replied the Woggle-Bug, getting down and standing beside Jack. The Scarecrow and Tin Woodman, being in deep conversation regarding a cloud that floated above them, did not see the little dog, which, finding he could not bite Jack’s wooden legs, flew furiously at the Woggle-Bug. The Insect might have been severely bitten had he not used two of his four arms to hold the dog at a safe distance, while with the other two he helped the Sawhorse to the ground.
Now, it is a well-known fact that dogs ‹ and little dogs, especially ‹ think it is their duty to bark at anything strange or unusual; so it is no wonder that when the dog saw the Sawhorse he made a dash at it with so much energy
that it appeared to be his ambition to tear the wooden steed to pieces. And the Sawhorse, not being pleased at the attack, kicked with both his hind legs just as the dog sprang at him. So up into the air flew the dog, howling as he went, and then the Tin Woodman, who was still looking at the cloud in the sky, saw a black ball descending through the air straight in his direction. He cleverly caught the little creature in his tin arms, and the dog, more astonished than hurt by the Sawhorse’s kick, now found himself staring into the painted face of the Scarecrow. At once the dog seemed to recognize the Scarecrow, for he barked and wiggled around in the Tin Woodman’s arms with every expression of delight, and licked the stuffed features of the Scarecrow with manifestations of extreme joy.
“Why, Toto ‹ my dear little Toto!” cried the Scarecrow, “where did you come from, and where is your mistress?”
The dog, of course, made no reply, but the little girl at this moment ran toward them crying: “My dear old friends! How glad I am to see you!”
“Dorothy!” shouted the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman, together.
But there was no time then for more words, for the little dog sprang from the Gump to greet his mistress, thereby tripping up the Woggle-Bug, who fell across the Sawhorse and so frightened that animal that he bucked and threw both the Insect and Jack to the ground in a heap. Their jumbled bodies made a convenient stepping-stone for the Scarecrow and Tin Woodman, who both left the Gump to meet and embrace the little girl in the most friendly and even affectionate manner.
As Jack disentangled himself from the heap he asked: “Who are these people?” And the Scarecrow replied: “Dorothy and Toto once visited us in the Land of Oz, and we were great chums there. But her home is here in Kansas, where the wheat fields grow.”
“Oh!” responded Jack, adjusting his head, which had become turned to one side in his fall, “is that stuff wheat, that the farmer is cutting out there?”
“No, indeed,” said the Woggle-Bug, who was anxious to air his wisdom. And he told the Pumpkinhead that the kind of grain was barley.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 836
