“As for that,” answered the King, “my kingdom causes me little worry, and I often find it somewhat tame and uninteresting. Therefore I am glad to accept your kind invitation. Corporal Waddle may be trusted to care for my bears in my absence.”
“And you’ll bring the little Pink Bear?” asked Dorothy eagerly.
“Of course, my dear. I would not willingly part with him.”
They remained in the wicker castle for three days, carefully packing all the magical things that had been stolen by Ugu and also taking whatever in the way of magic the shoemaker had inherited from his ancestors. “For,” said Ozma, “I have forbidden any of my subjects except Glinda the Good and the Wizard of Oz to practice magical arts, because they cannot be trusted to do good and not harm. Therefore Ugu must never again be permitted to work magic of any sort.”
“Well,” remarked Dorothy cheerfully, “a dove can’t do much in the way of magic, anyhow, and I’m going to keep Ugu in the form of a dove until he reforms and becomes a good and honest shoemaker.”
When everything was packed and loaded on the backs of the animals, they set out for the river, taking a more direct route than that by which Cayke and the Frogman had come. In this way they avoided the Cities of Thi and Herku and Bear Center and after a pleasant journey reached the Winkie River and found a jolly ferryman who had a fine, big boat and was willing to carry the entire party by water to a place quite near to the Emerald City.
The river had many windings and many branches, and the journey did not end in a day, but finally the boat floated into a pretty lake which was but a short distance from Ozma’s home. Here the jolly ferryman was rewarded for his labors, and then the entire party set out in a grand procession to march to the Emerald City. News that the Royal Ozma had been found spread quickly throughout the neighborhood, and both sides of the road soon became lined with loyal subjects of the beautiful and beloved Ruler. Therefore Ozma’s ears heard little but cheers, and her eyes beheld little else than waving handkerchiefs and banners during all the triumphal march from the lake to the city’s gates.
And there she met a still greater concourse, for all the inhabitants of the Emerald City turned out to welcome her return, and all the houses were decorated with flags and bunting, and never before were the people so joyous and happy as at this moment when they welcomed home their girl Ruler. For she had been lost and was now found again, and surely that was cause for rejoicing. Glinda was at the royal palace to meet the returning party, and the good Sorceress was indeed glad to have her Great Book of Records returned to her, as well as all the precious collection of magic instruments and elixirs and chemicals that had been stolen from her castle. Cap’n Bill and the Wizard at once hung the Magic Picture upon the wall of Ozma’s boudoir, and the Wizard was so light-hearted that he did several tricks with the tools in his black bag to amuse his companions and prove that once again he was a powerful wizard.
For a whole week there was feasting and merriment and all sorts of joyous festivities at the palace in honor of Ozma’s safe return. The Lavender Bear and the little Pink Bear received much attention and were honored by all, much to the Bear King’s satisfaction. The Frogman speedily became a favorite at the Emerald City, and the Shaggy Man and Tik-Tok and Jack Pumpkinhead, who had now returned from their search, were very polite to the big frog and made him feel quite at home. Even the Cookie Cook, because she was quite a stranger and Ozma’s guest, was shown as much deference as if she had been a queen.
“All the same, Your Majesty,” said Cayke to Ozma, day after day with tiresome repetition, “I hope you will soon find my jeweled dishpan, for never can I be quite happy without it.”
CHAPTER 26.DOROTHY FORGIVES
The gray dove which had once been Ugu the Shoemaker sat on its tree in the far Quadling Country and moped, chirping dismally and brooding over its misfortunes. After a time, the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman came along and sat beneath the tree, paying no heed to the mutterings of the gray dove. The Tin Woodman took a small oilcan from his tin pocket and carefully oiled his tin joints with it.
While he was thus engaged, the Scarecrow remarked, “I feel much better, dear comrade, since we found that heap of nice, clean straw and you stuffed me anew with it.”
“And I feel much better now that my joints are oiled,” returned the Tin Woodman with a sigh of pleasure. “You and I, friend Scarecrow, are much more easily cared for than those clumsy meat people, who spend half their time dressing in fine clothes and who must live in splendid dwellings in order to be contented and happy. You and I do not eat, and so we are spared the dreadful bother of getting three meals a day. Nor do we waste half our lives in sleep, a condition that causes the meat people to lose all consciousness and become as thoughtless and helpless as logs of wood.”
“You speak truly,” responded the Scarecrow, tucking some wisps of straw into his breast with his padded fingers. “I often feel sorry for the meat people, many of whom are my friends. Even the beasts are happier than they, for they require less to make them content. And the birds are the luckiest creatures of all, for they can fly swiftly where they will and find a home at any place they care to perch. Their food consists of seeds and grains they gather from the fields, and their drink is a sip of water from some running brook. If I could not be a Scarecrow or a Tin Woodman, my next choice would be to live as a bird does.”
The gray dove had listened carefully to this speech and seemed to find comfort in it, for it hushed its moaning. And just then the Tin Woodman discovered Cayke’s dishpan, which was on the ground quite near to him. “Here is a rather pretty utensil,” he said, taking it in his tin hand to examine it, “but I would not care to own it. Whoever fashioned it of gold and covered it with diamonds did not add to its usefulness, nor do I consider it as beautiful as the bright dishpans of tin one usually sees. No yellow color is ever so handsome as the silver sheen of tin,” and he turned to look at his tin legs and body with approval.
“I cannot quite agree with you there,” replied the Scarecrow. “My straw stuffing has a light yellow color, and it is not only pretty to look at, but it crunkles most delightfully when I move.”
“Let us admit that all colors are good in their proper places,” said the Tin Woodman, who was too kind-hearted to quarrel, “but you must agree with me that a dishpan that is yellow is unnatural. What shall we do with this one, which we have just found?”
“Let us carry it back to the Emerald City,” suggested the Scarecrow. “Some of our friends might like to have it for a foot-bath, and in using it that way, its golden color and sparkling ornaments would not injure its usefulness.”
So they went away and took the jeweled dishpan with them. And after wandering through the country for a day or so longer, they learned the news that Ozma had been found. Therefore they straightway returned to the Emerald City and presented the dishpan to Princess Ozma as a token of their joy that she had been restored to them. Ozma promptly gave the diamond-studded gold dishpan to Cayke the Cookie Cook, who was delighted at regaining her lost treasure that she danced up and down in glee and then threw her skinny arms around Ozma’s neck and kissed her gratefully. Cayke’s mission was now successfully accomplished, but she was having such a good time at the Emerald City that she seemed in no hurry to go back to the Country of the Yips.
It was several weeks after the dishpan had been restored to the Cookie Cook when one day, as Dorothy was seated in the royal gardens with Trot and Betsy beside her, a gray dove came flying down and alighted at the girl’s feet.
“I am Ugu the Shoemaker,” said the dove in a soft, mourning voice, “and I have come to ask you to forgive me for the great wrong I did in stealing Ozma and the magic that belonged to her and to others.”
“Are you sorry, then?” asked Dorothy, looking hard at the bird.
“I am VERY sorry,” declared Ugu. “I’ve been thinking over my misdeeds for a long time, for doves have little else to
do but think, and I’m surprised that I was such a wicked man and had so little regard for the rights of others. I am now convinced that even had I succeeded in making myself ruler of all Oz, I should not have been happy, for many days of quiet thought have shown me that only those things one acquires honestly are able to render one content.”
“I guess that’s so,” said Trot.
“Anyhow,” said Betsy, “the bad man seems truly sorry, and if he has now become a good and honest man, we ought to forgive him.”
“I fear I cannot become a good MAN again,” said Ugu, “for the transformation I am under will always keep me in the form of a dove. But with the kind forgiveness of my former enemies, I hope to become a very good dove and highly respected.”
“Wait here till I run for my Magic Belt,” said Dorothy, “and I’ll transform you back to your reg’lar shape in a jiffy.”
“No, don’t do that!” pleaded the dove, fluttering its wings in an excited way. “I only want your forgiveness. I don’t want to be a man again. As Ugu the Shoemaker I was skinny and old and unlovely. As a dove I am quite pretty to look at. As a man I was ambitious and cruel, while as a dove I can be content with my lot and happy in my simple life. I have learned to love the free and independent life of a bird, and I’d rather not change back.”
“Just as you like, Ugu,” said Dorothy, resuming her seat. “Perhaps you are right, for you’re certainly a better dove than you were a man, and if you should ever backslide an’ feel wicked again, you couldn’t do much harm as a gray dove.”
“Then you forgive me for all the trouble I caused you?” he asked earnestly.
“Of course. Anyone who’s sorry just has to be forgiven.”
“Thank you,” said the gray dove, and flew away again.
THE END
The Tin Woodman of Oz L. Frank Baum
TO MY READERS
I know that some of you have been waiting for this story of the Tin Woodman, because many of my correspondents have asked me, time and again what ever became of the “pretty Munchkin girl” whom Nick Chopper was engaged to marry before the Wicked Witch enchanted his axe and he traded his flesh for tin. I, too, have wondered what became of her, but until Woot the Wanderer interested himself in the matter the Tin Woodman knew no more than we did. However, he found her, after many thrilling adventures, as you will discover when you have read this story.
I am delighted at the continued interest of both young and old in the Oz stories. A learned college professor recently wrote me to ask: “For readers of what age are your books intended?” It puzzled me to answer that properly, until I had looked over some of the letters I have received. One says: “I’m a little boy 5 years old, and I Just love your Oz stories. My sister, who is writing this for me, reads me the Oz books, but I wish I could read them myself.” Another letter says: “I’m a great girl 13 years old, so you’ll be surprised when I tell you I am not too old yet for the Oz stories.” Here’s another letter: “Since I was a young girl I’ve never missed getting a Baum book for Christmas. I’m married, now, but am as eager to get and read the Oz stories as ever.” And still another writes: “My good wife and I, both more than 70 years of age, believe that we find more real enjoyment in your Oz books than in any other books we read.” Considering these statements, I wrote the college professor that my books are intended for all those whose hearts are young, no matter what their ages may be.
I think I am justified in promising that there will be some astonishing revelations about The Magic of Oz in my book for 1919. Always your loving and grateful friend,
L. FRANK BAUM.
Royal Historian of Oz.
“OZCOT”
at HOLLYWOOD
in CALIFORNIA
1918.
Chapter One.Woot the Wanderer
The Tin Woodman sat on his glittering tin throne in the handsome tin hall of his splendid tin castle in the Winkie Country of the Land of Oz. Beside him, in a chair of woven straw, sat his best friend, the Scarecrow of Oz. At times they spoke to one another of curious things they had seen and strange adventures they had known since first they two had met and become comrades. But at times they were silent, for these things had been talked over many times between them, and they found themselves contented in merely being together, speaking now and then a brief sentence to prove they were wide awake and attentive. But then, these two quaint persons never slept. Why should they sleep, when they never tired?
And now, as the brilliant sun sank low over the Winkie Country of Oz, tinting the glistening tin towers and tin minarets of the tin castle with glorious sunset hues, there approached along a winding pathway Woot the Wanderer, who met at the castle entrance a Winkie servant.
The servants of the Tin Woodman all wore tin helmets and tin breastplates and uniforms covered with tiny tin discs sewed closely together on silver cloth, so that their bodies sparkled as beautifully as did the tin castle—and almost as beautifully as did the Tin Woodman himself.
Woot the Wanderer looked at the man servant—all bright and glittering—and at the magnificent castle—all bright and glittering—and as he looked his eyes grew big with wonder. For Woot was not very big and not very old and, wanderer though he was, this proved the most gorgeous sight that had ever met his boyish gaze.
“Who lives here?” he asked.
“The Emperor of the Winkies, who is the famous Tin Woodman of Oz,” replied the servant, who had been trained to treat all strangers with courtesy.
“A Tin Woodman? How queer!” exclaimed the little wanderer.
“Well, perhaps our Emperor is queer,” admitted the servant; “but he is a kind master and as honest and true as good tin can make him; so we, who gladly serve him, are apt to forget that he is not like other people.”
“May I see him?” asked Woot the Wanderer, after a moment’s thought.
“If it please you to wait a moment, I will go and ask him,” said the servant, and then he went into the hall where the Tin Woodman sat with his friend the Scarecrow. Both were glad to learn that a stranger had arrived at the castle, for this would give them something new to talk about, so the servant was asked to admit the boy at once.
By the time Woot the Wanderer had passed through the grand corridors—all lined with ornamental tin—and under stately tin archways and through the many tin rooms all set with beautiful tin furniture, his eyes had grown bigger than ever and his whole little body thrilled with amazement. But, astonished though he was, he was able to make a polite bow before the throne and to say in a respectful voice: “I salute your Illustrious Majesty and offer you my humble services.”
“Very good!” answered the Tin Woodman in his accustomed cheerful manner. “Tell me who you are, and whence you come.”
“I am known as Woot the Wanderer,” answered the boy, “and I have come, through many travels and by roundabout ways, from my former home in a far corner of the Gillikin Country of Oz.”
“To wander from one’s home,” remarked the Scarecrow, “is to encounter dangers and hardships, especially if one is made of meat and bone. Had you no friends in that corner of the Gillikin Country? Was it not homelike and comfortable?”
To hear a man stuffed with straw speak, and speak so well, quite startled Woot, and perhaps he stared a bit rudely at the Scarecrow. But after a moment he replied:
“I had home and friends, your Honorable Strawness, but they were so quiet and happy and comfortable that I found them dismally stupid. Nothing in that corner of Oz interested me, but I believed that in other parts of the country I would find strange people and see new sights, and so I set out upon my wandering journey. I have been a wanderer for nearly a full year, and now my wanderings have brought me to this splendid castle.”
“I suppose,” said the Tin Woodman, “that in this year you have seen so much that you have become very wise.”
“No,” replied Woot, thoug
htfully, “I am not at all wise, I beg to assure your Majesty. The more I wander the less I find that I know, for in the Land of Oz much wisdom and many things may be learned.”
“To learn is simple. Don’t you ask questions?” inquired the Scarecrow.
“Yes; I ask as many questions as I dare; but some people refuse to answer questions.”
“That is not kind of them,” declared the Tin Woodman. “If one does not ask for information he seldom receives it; so I, for my part, make it a rule to answer any civil question that is asked me.”
“So do I,” added the Scarecrow, nodding.
“I am glad to hear this,” said the Wanderer, “for it makes me bold to ask for something to eat.”
“Bless the boy!” cried the Emperor of the Winkies; “how careless of me not to remember that wanderers are usually hungry. I will have food brought you at once.”
Saying this he blew upon a tin whistle that was suspended from his tin neck, and at the summons a servant appeared and bowed low. The Tin Woodman ordered food for the stranger, and in a few minutes the servant brought in a tin tray heaped with a choice array of good things to eat, all neatly displayed on tin dishes that were polished till they shone like mirrors. The tray was set upon a tin table drawn before the throne, and the servant placed a tin chair before the table for the boy to seat himself.
“Eat, friend Wanderer,” said the Emperor cordially, “and I trust the feast will be to your liking. I, myself, do not eat, being made in such manner that I require no food to keep me alive. Neither does my friend the Scarecrow. But all my Winkie people eat, being formed of flesh, as you are, and so my tin cupboard is never bare, and strangers are always welcome to whatever it contains.”
The boy ate in silence for a time, being really hungry, but after his appetite was somewhat satisfied, he said:
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