Having heard this story, Dorothy related to them her own adventures, and then went out with her friends to find the Sawhorse, which Ozma had caused to be shod with plates of gold, so that its legs would not wear out.
They came upon the Sawhorse standing motionless beside the garden gate, but when Dorothy was introduced to him he bowed politely and blinked his eyes, which were knots of wood, and wagged his tail, which was only the branch of a tree.
“What a remarkable thing, to be alive!” exclaimed Dorothy.
“I quite agree with you,” replied the Sawhorse, in a rough but not unpleasant voice. “A creature like me has no business to live, as we all know. But it was the magic powder that did it, so I cannot justly be blamed.”
“Of course not,” said Dorothy. “And you seem to be of some use, ‘cause I noticed the Scarecrow riding upon your back.”
“Oh, yes; I’m of use,” returned the Sawhorse; “and I never tire, never have to be fed, or cared for in any way.”
“Are you intel’gent?” asked the girl.
“Not very,” said the creature. “It would be foolish to waste intelligence on a common Sawhorse, when so many professors need it. But I know enough to obey my masters, and to gid-dup, or whoa, when I’m told to. So I’m pretty well satisfied.”
That night Dorothy slept in a pleasant little bed-chamber next to that occupied by Ozma of Oz, and Billina perched upon the foot of the bed and tucked her head under her wing and slept as soundly in that position as did Dorothy upon her soft cushions.
But before daybreak every one was awake and stirring, and soon the adventurers were eating a hasty breakfast in the great dining-room of the palace. Ozma sat at the head of a long table, on a raised platform, with Dorothy on her right hand and the Scarecrow on her left. The Scarecrow did not eat, of course; but Ozma placed him near her so that she might ask his advice about the journey while she ate.
Lower down the table were the twenty-seven warriors of Oz, and at the end of the room the Lion and the Tiger were eating out of a kettle that had been placed upon the floor, while Billina fluttered around to pick up any scraps that might be scattered.
It did not take long to finish the meal, and then the Lion and the Tiger were harnessed to the chariot and the party was ready to start for the Nome King’s Palace.
First rode Ozma, with Dorothy beside her in the golden chariot and holding Billina fast in her arms. Then came the Scarecrow on the Sawhorse, with the Tin Woodman and Tiktok marching side by side just behind him. After these tramped the Army, looking brave and handsome in their splendid uniforms. The generals commanded the colonels and the colonels commanded the majors and the majors commanded the captains and the captains commanded the private, who marched with an air of proud importance because it required so many officers to give him his orders.
And so the magnificent procession left the palace and started along the road just as day was breaking, and by the time the sun came out they had made good progress toward the valley that led to the Nome King’s domain.
10. The Giant with the Hammer
The road led for a time through a pretty farm country, and then past a picnic grove that was very inviting. But the procession continued to steadily advance until Billina cried in an abrupt and commanding manner:
“Wait—wait!”
Ozma stopped her chariot so suddenly that the Scarecrow’s Sawhorse nearly ran into it, and the ranks of the army tumbled over one another before they could come to a halt. Immediately the yellow hen struggled from Dorothy’s arms and flew into a clump of bushes by the roadside.
“What’s the matter?” called the Tin Woodman, anxiously.
“Why, Billina wants to lay her egg, that’s all,” said Dorothy.
“Lay her egg!” repeated the Tin Woodman, in astonishment.
“Yes; she lays one every morning, about this time; and it’s quite fresh,” said the girl.
“But does your foolish old hen suppose that this entire cavalcade, which is bound on an important adventure, is going to stand still while she lays her egg?” enquired the Tin Woodman, earnestly.
“What else can we do?” asked the girl. “It’s a habit of Billina’s and she can’t break herself of it.”
“Then she must hurry up,” said the Tin Woodman, impatiently.
“No, no!” exclaimed the Scarecrow. “If she hurries she may lay scrambled eggs.”
“That’s nonsense,” said Dorothy. “But Billina won’t be long, I’m sure.”
So they stood and waited, although all were restless and anxious to proceed. And by and by the yellow hen came from the bushes saying:
“Kut-kut, kut, ka-daw-kutt! Kut, kut, kut—ka-daw-kut!”
“What is she doing—singing her lay?” asked the Scarecrow.
“For-ward—march!” shouted the Tin Woodman, waving his axe, and the procession started just as Dorothy had once more grabbed Billina in her arms.
“Isn’t anyone going to get my egg?” cried the hen, in great excitement.
“I’ll get it,” said the Scarecrow; and at his command the Sawhorse pranced into the bushes. The straw man soon found the egg, which he placed in his jacket pocket. The cavalcade, having moved rapidly on, was even then far in advance; but it did not take the Sawhorse long to catch up with it, and presently the Scarecrow was riding in his accustomed place behind Ozma’s chariot.
“What shall I do with the egg?” he asked Dorothy.
“I do not know,” the girl answered. “Perhaps the Hungry Tiger would like it.”
“It would not be enough to fill one of my back teeth,” remarked the Tiger. “A bushel of them, hard boiled, might take a little of the edge off my appetite; but one egg isn’t good for anything at all, that I know of.”
“No; it wouldn’t even make a sponge cake,” said the Scarecrow, thoughtfully. “The Tin Woodman might carry it with his axe and hatch it; but after all I may as well keep it myself for a souvenir.” So he left it in his pocket.
They had now reached that part of the valley that lay between the two high mountains which Dorothy had seen from her tower window. At the far end was the third great mountain, which blocked the valley and was the northern edge of the Land of Ev. It was underneath this mountain that the Nome King’s palace was said to be; but it would be some time before they reached that place.
The path was becoming rocky and difficult for the wheels of the chariot to pass over, and presently a deep gulf appeared at their feet which was too wide for them to leap. So Ozma took a small square of green cloth from her pocket and threw it upon the ground. At once it became the magic carpet, and unrolled itself far enough for all the cavalcade to walk upon. The chariot now advanced, and the green carpet unrolled before it, crossing the gulf on a level with its banks, so that all passed over in safety.
“That’s easy enough,” said the Scarecrow. “I wonder what will happen next.”
He was not long in making the discovery, for the sides of the mountain came closer together until finally there was but a narrow path between them, along which Ozma and her party were forced to pass in single file.
They now heard a low and deep “thump!—thump!—thump!” which echoed throughout the valley and seemed to grow louder as they advanced. Then, turning a corner of rock, they saw before them a huge form, which towered above the path for more than a hundred feet. The form was that of a gigantic man built out of plates of cast iron, and it stood with one foot on either side of the narrow road and swung over its right shoulder an immense iron mallet, with which it constantly pounded the earth. These resounding blows explained the thumping sounds they had heard, for the mallet was much bigger than a barrel, and where it struck the path between the rocky sides of the mountain it filled all the space through which our travelers would be obliged to pass.
Of course they at once halted, a safe distance away from the terrible iron mallet. The magic c
arpet would do them no good in this case, for it was only meant to protect them from any dangers upon the ground beneath their feet, and not from dangers that appeared in the air above them.
“Wow!” said the Cowardly Lion, with a shudder. “It makes me dreadfully nervous to see that big hammer pounding so near my head. One blow would crush me into a door-mat.”
“The ir-on gi-ant is a fine fel-low,” said Tiktok, “and works as stead-i-ly as a clock. He was made for the Nome King by Smith & Tin-ker, who made me, and his du-ty is to keep folks from find-ing the un-der-ground pal-ace. Is he not a great work of art?”
“Can he think, and speak, as you do?” asked Ozma, regarding the giant with wondering eyes.
“No,” replied the machine; “he is on-ly made to pound the road, and has no think-ing or speak-ing at-tach-ment. But he pounds ve-ry well, I think.”
“Too well,” observed the Scarecrow. “He is keeping us from going farther. Is there no way to stop his machinery?”
“On-ly the Nome King, who has the key, can do that,” answered Tiktok.
“Then,” said Dorothy, anxiously, “what shall we do?”
“Excuse me for a few minutes,” said the Scarecrow, “and I will think it over.”
He retired, then, to a position in the rear, where he turned his painted face to the rocks and began to think.
Meantime the giant continued to raise his iron mallet high in the air and to strike the path terrific blows that echoed through the mountains like the roar of a cannon. Each time the mallet lifted, however, there was a moment when the path beneath the monster was free, and perhaps the Scarecrow had noticed this, for when he came back to the others he said:
“The matter is a very simple one, after all. We have but to run under the hammer, one at a time, when it is lifted, and pass to the other side before it falls again.”
“It will require quick work, if we escape the blow,” said the Tin Woodman, with a shake of his head. “But it really seems the only thing to be done. Who will make the first attempt?”
They looked at one another hesitatingly for a moment. Then the Cowardly Lion, who was trembling like a leaf in the wind, said to them:
“I suppose the head of the procession must go first—and that’s me. But I’m terribly afraid of the big hammer!”
“What will become of me?” asked Ozma. “You might rush under the hammer yourself, but the chariot would surely be crushed.”
“We must leave the chariot,” said the Scarecrow. “But you two girls can ride upon the backs of the Lion and the Tiger.”
So this was decided upon, and Ozma, as soon as the Lion was unfastened from the chariot, at once mounted the beast’s back and said she was ready.
“Cling fast to his mane,” advised Dorothy. “I used to ride him myself, and that’s the way I held on.”
So Ozma clung fast to the mane, and the lion crouched in the path and eyed the swinging mallet carefully until he knew just the instant it would begin to rise in the air.
Then, before anyone thought he was ready, he made a sudden leap straight between the iron giant’s legs, and before the mallet struck the ground again the Lion and Ozma were safe on the other side.
The Tiger went next. Dorothy sat upon his back and locked her arms around his striped neck, for he had no mane to cling to. He made the leap straight and true as an arrow from a bow, and ere Dorothy realized it she was out of danger and standing by Ozma’s side.
Now came the Scarecrow on the Sawhorse, and while they made the dash in safety they were within a hair’s breadth of being caught by the descending hammer.
Tiktok walked up to the very edge of the spot the hammer struck, and as it was raised for the next blow he calmly stepped forward and escaped its descent. That was an idea for the Tin Woodman to follow, and he also crossed in safety while the great hammer was in the air. But when it came to the twenty-six officers and the private, their knees were so weak that they could not walk a step.
“In battle we are wonderfully courageous,” said one of the generals, “and our foes find us very terrible to face. But war is one thing and this is another. When it comes to being pounded upon the head by an iron hammer, and smashed into pancakes, we naturally object.”
“Make a run for it,” urged the Scarecrow.
“Our knees shake so that we cannot run,” answered a captain. “If we should try it we would all certainly be pounded to a jelly.”
“Well, well,” sighed the Cowardly Lion, “I see, friend Tiger, that we must place ourselves in great danger to rescue this bold army. Come with me, and we will do the best we can.”
So, Ozma and Dorothy having already dismounted from their backs, the Lion and the Tiger leaped back again under the awful hammer and returned with two generals clinging to their necks. They repeated this daring passage twelve times, when all the officers had been carried beneath the giant’s legs and landed safely on the further side. By that time the beasts were very tired, and panted so hard that their tongues hung out of their great mouths.
“But what is to become of the private?” asked Ozma.
“Oh, leave him there to guard the chariot,” said the Lion. “I’m tired out, and won’t pass under that mallet again.”
The officers at once protested that they must have the private with them, else there would be no one for them to command. But neither the Lion or the Tiger would go after him, and so the Scarecrow sent the Sawhorse.
Either the wooden horse was careless, or it failed to properly time the descent of the hammer, for the mighty weapon caught it squarely upon its head, and thumped it against the ground so powerfully that the private flew off its back high into the air, and landed upon one of the giant’s cast-iron arms. Here he clung desperately while the arm rose and fell with each one of the rapid strokes.
The Scarecrow dashed in to rescue his Sawhorse, and had his left foot smashed by the hammer before he could pull the creature out of danger. They then found that the Sawhorse had been badly dazed by the blow; for while the hard wooden knot of which his head was formed could not be crushed by the hammer, both his ears were broken off and he would be unable to hear a sound until some new ones were made for him. Also his left knee was cracked, and had to be bound up with a string.
Billina having fluttered under the hammer, it now remained only to rescue the private who was riding upon the iron giant’s arm, high in the air.
The Scarecrow lay flat upon the ground and called to the man to jump down upon his body, which was soft because it was stuffed with straw. This the private managed to do, waiting until a time when he was nearest the ground and then letting himself drop upon the Scarecrow. He accomplished the feat without breaking any bones, and the Scarecrow declared he was not injured in the least.
Therefore, the Tin Woodman having by this time fitted new ears to the Sawhorse, the entire party proceeded upon its way, leaving the giant to pound the path behind them.
11. The Nome King
By and by, when they drew near to the mountain that blocked their path and which was the furthermost edge of the Kingdom of Ev, the way grew dark and gloomy for the reason that the high peaks on either side shut out the sunshine. And it was very silent, too, as there were no birds to sing or squirrels to chatter, the trees being left far behind them and only the bare rocks remaining.
Ozma and Dorothy were a little awed by the silence, and all the others were quiet and grave except the Sawhorse, which, as it trotted along with the Scarecrow upon his back, hummed a queer song, of which this was the chorus:
“Would a wooden horse in a woodland go?
Aye, aye! I sigh, he would, although
Had he not had a wooden head
He’d mount the mountain top instead.”
But no one paid any attention to this because they were now close to the Nome King’s dominions, and his splendid underground palace could not be very far
away.
Suddenly they heard a shout of jeering laughter, and stopped short. They would have to stop in a minute, anyway, for the huge mountain barred their further progress and the path ran close up to a wall of rock and ended.
“Who was that laughing?” asked Ozma.
There was no reply, but in the gloom they could see strange forms flit across the face of the rock. Whatever the creations might be they seemed very like the rock itself, for they were the color of rocks and their shapes were as rough and rugged as if they had been broken away from the side of the mountain. They kept close to the steep cliff facing our friends, and glided up and down, and this way and that, with a lack of regularity that was quite confusing. And they seemed not to need places to rest their feet, but clung to the surface of the rock as a fly does to a window-pane, and were never still for a moment.
“Do not mind them,” said Tiktok, as Dorothy shrank back. “They are on-ly the Nomes.”
“And what are Nomes?” asked the girl, half frightened.
“They are rock fair-ies, and serve the Nome King,” replied the machine. “But they will do us no harm. You must call for the King, be-cause with-out him you can ne-ver find the en-trance to the pal-ace.”
“YOU call,” said Dorothy to Ozma.
Just then the Nomes laughed again, and the sound was so weird and disheartening that the twenty-six officers commanded the private to “right-about-face!” and they all started to run as fast as they could.
The Classic Children's Literature Collection: 39 Classic Novels Page 147
