The Marvelous Land of Oz
“I am ready now” returned the Scarecrow. Then he lay flat upon the
ground and unbuttoned his jacket, displaying the mass of straw with
which he was stuffed.
The Queen uttered a little piping call, and in an instant a dozen
pretty field mice had emerged from their holes and stood before their
ruler, awaiting her orders.
What the Queen said to them none of our travelers could understand, for
it was in the mouse language; but the field mice obeyed without
hesitation, running one after the other to the Scarecrow and hiding
themselves in the straw of his breast.
When all of the twelve mice had thus concealed themselves, the
Scarecrow buttoned his Jacket securely and then arose and thanked the
Queen for her kindness.
“One thing more you might do to serve us,” suggested the Tin Woodman;
“and that is to run ahead and show us the way to the Emerald City. For
some enemy is evidently trying to prevent us from reaching it.”
“I will do that gladly,” returned the Queen. “Are you ready?”
The Tin Woodman looked at Tip.
“I’m rested,” said the boy. “Let us start.”
Then they resumed their journey, the little grey Queen of the Field
Mice running swiftly ahead and then pausing until the travelers drew
near, when away she would dart again.
Without this unerring guide the Scarecrow and his comrades might never
have gained the Emerald City; for many were the obstacles thrown in
their way by the arts of old Mombi. Yet not one of the obstacles really
existed—all were cleverly contrived deceptions. For when they came to
the banks of a rushing river that threatened to bar their way the
little Queen kept steadily on, passing through the seeming flood in
safety; and our travelers followed her without encountering a single
drop of water.
Again, a high wall of granite towered high above their heads and
opposed their advance. But the grey Field Mouse walked straight through
it, and the others did the same, the wall melting into mist as they
passed it.
Afterward, when they had stopped for a moment to allow Tip to rest,
they saw forty roads branching off from their feet in forty different
directions; and soon these forty roads began whirling around like a
mighty wheel, first in one direction and then in the other, completely
bewildering their vision.
But the Queen called for them to follow her and darted off in a
straight line; and when they had gone a few paces the whirling pathways
vanished and were seen no more.
Mombi’s last trick was the most fearful of all. She sent a sheet of
crackling flame rushing over the meadow to consume them; and for the
first time the Scarecrow became afraid and turned to fly.
“If that fire reaches me I will be gone in no time!” said he, trembling
until his straw rattled. “It’s the most dangerous thing I ever
encountered.”
“I’m off, too!” cried the Saw-Horse, turning and prancing with
agitation; “for my wood is so dry it would burn like kindlings.”
“Is fire dangerous to pumpkins?” asked Jack, fearfully.
“You’ll be baked like a tart—and so will I!” answered the Woggle-Bug,
getting down on all fours so he could run the faster.
But the Tin Woodman, having no fear of fire, averted the stampede by a
few sensible words.
“Look at the Field Mouse!” he shouted. “The fire does not burn her in
the least. In fact, it is no fire at all, but only a deception.”
Indeed, to watch the little Queen march calmly through the advancing
flames restored courage to every member of the party, and they followed
her without being even scorched.
“This is surely a most extraordinary adventure,” said the Woggle-Bug,
who was greatly amazed; “for it upsets all the Natural Laws that I
heard Professor Nowitall teach in the school-house.”
“Of course it does,” said the Scarecrow, wisely. “All magic is
unnatural, and for that reason is to be feared and avoided. But I see
before us the gates of the Emerald City, so I imagine we have now
overcome all the magical obstacles that seemed to oppose us.”
Indeed, the walls of the City were plainly visible, and the Queen of
the Field Mice, who had guided them so faithfully, came near to bid
them good-bye.
“We are very grateful to your Majesty for your kind assistance,” said
the Tin Woodman, bowing before the pretty creature.
“I am always pleased to be of service to my friends,” answered the
Queen, and in a flash she had darted away upon her journey home.
The Prisoners of the Queen
Approaching the gateway of the Emerald City the travelers found it
guarded by two girls of the Army of Revolt, who opposed their entrance
by drawing the knitting-needles from their hair and threatening to prod
the first that came near.
But the Tin Woodman was not afraid.
“At the worst they can but scratch my beautiful nickel-plate,” he said.
“But there will be no ‘worst,’ for I think I can manage to frighten
these absurd soldiers very easily. Follow me closely, all of you!”
Then, swinging his axe in a great circle to right and left before him,
he advanced upon the gate, and the others followed him without
hesitation.
The girls, who had expected no resistance whatever, were terrified by
the sweep of the glittering axe and fled screaming into the city; so
that our travelers passed the gates in safety and marched down the
green marble pavement of the wide street toward the royal palace.
“At this rate we will soon have your Majesty upon the throne again,”
said the Tin Woodman, laughing at his easy conquest of the guards.
“Thank you, friend Nick,” returned the Scarecrow, gratefully. “Nothing
can resist your kind heart and your sharp axe.”
As they passed the rows of houses they saw through the open doors that
men were sweeping and dusting and washing dishes, while the women sat
around in groups, gossiping and laughing.
“What has happened?” the Scarecrow asked a sad-looking man with a bushy
beard, who wore an apron and was wheeling a baby-carriage along the
sidewalk.
“Why, we’ve had a revolution, your Majesty as you ought to know very
well,” replied the man; “and since you went away the women have been
running things to suit themselves. I’m glad you have decided to come
back and restore order, for doing housework and minding the children is
wearing out the strength of every man in the Emerald City.”
“Hm!” said the Scarecrow, thoughtfully. “If it is such hard work as you
say, how did the women manage it so easily?”
“I really do not know” replied the man, with a deep sigh. “Perhaps the
women are made of castiron.”
No movement was made, as they passed along the street, to oppose their
progress. Several of the women stopped their gossip long enough to cast
curious looks upon our friends, but immediately they would turn away
with a laugh or a sneer and resume their chatter. And when they met
with several girls belonging to the Army of Revolt, those soldiers,
instead of being alarmed or appearing surprised, merely stepped out of
the way and allowed them to advance without protest.
This action rendered the Scarecrow uneasy.
“I’m afraid we are walking into a trap,” said he.
“Nonsense!” returned Nick Chopper, confidently; “the silly creatures
are conquered already!”
But the Scarecrow shook his head in a way that expressed doubt, and Tip
said:
“It’s too easy, altogether. Look out for trouble ahead.”
“I will,” returned his Majesty. Unopposed they reached the royal palace
and marched up the marble steps, which had once been thickly crusted
with emeralds but were now filled with tiny holes where the jewels had
been ruthlessly torn from their settings by the Army of Revolt. And so
far not a rebel barred their way.
Through the arched hallways and into the magnificent throne room
marched the Tin Woodman and his followers, and here, when the green
silken curtains fell behind them, they saw a curious sight.
Seated within the glittering throne was General Jinjur, with the
Scarecrow’s second-best crown upon her head, and the royal sceptre in
her right hand. A box of caramels, from which she was eating, rested in
her lap, and the girl seemed entirely at ease in her royal
surroundings.
The Scarecrow stepped forward and confronted her, while the Tin Woodman
leaned upon his axe and the others formed a half-circle back of his
Majesty’s person.
“How dare you sit in my throne?” demanded the Scarecrow, sternly eyeing
the intruder. “Don’t you know you are guilty of treason, and that there
is a law against treason?”
“The throne belongs to whoever is able to take it,” answered Jinjur, as
she slowly ate another caramel. “I have taken it, as you see; so just
now I am the Queen, and all who oppose me are guilty of treason, and
must be punished by the law you have just mentioned.”
This view of the case puzzled the Scarecrow.
“How is it, friend Nick?” he asked, turning to the Tin Woodman.
“Why, when it comes to Law, I have nothing to, say” answered that
personage. “for laws were never meant to be understood, and it is
foolish to make the attempt.”
“Then what shall we do?” asked the Scarecrow, in dismay.
“Why don’t you marry the Queen? And then you can both rule,” suggested
the Woggle-Bug.
Jinjur glared at the insect fiercely. “Why don’t you send her back to
her mother, where she belongs?” asked Jack Pumpkinhead.
Jinjur frowned.
“Why don’t you shut her up in a closet until she behaves herself, and
promises to be good?” enquired Tip. Jinjur’s lip curled scornfully.
“Or give her a good shaking!” added the Saw-Horse.
“No,” said the Tin Woodman, “we must treat the poor girl with
gentleness. Let us give her all the Jewels she can carry, and send her
away happy and contented.”
At this Queen Jinjur laughed aloud, and the next minute clapped her
pretty hands together thrice, as if for a signal.
“You are very absurd creatures,” said she; “but I am tired of your
nonsense and have no time to bother with you longer.”
While the monarch and his friends listened in amazement to this
impudent speech, a startling thing happened. The Tin Woodman’s axe was
snatched from his grasp by some person behind him, and he found himself
disarmed and helpless. At the same instant a shout of laughter rang in
the ears of the devoted band, and turning to see whence this came they
found themselves surrounded by the Army of Revolt, the girls bearing in
either hand their glistening knitting-needles. The entire throne room
seemed to be filled with the rebels, and the Scarecrow and his comrades
realized that they were prisoners.
“You see how foolish it is to oppose a woman’s wit,” said Jinjur,
gaily; “and this event only proves that I am more fit to rule the
Emerald City than a Scarecrow. I bear you no ill will, I assure you;
but lest you should prove troublesome to me in the future I shall order
you all to be destroyed. That is, all except the boy, who belongs to
old Mombi and must be restored to her keeping. The rest of you are not
human, and therefore it will not be wicked to demolish you. The
Saw-Horse and the Pumpkinhead’s body I will have chopped up for
kindling-wood; and the pumpkin shall be made into tarts. The Scarecrow
will do nicely to start a bonfire, and the tin man can be cut into
small pieces and fed to the goats. As for this immense Woggle-Bug—”
“Highly Magnified, if you please!” interrupted the insect.
“I think I will ask the cook to make green-turtle soup of you,”
continued the Queen, reflectively.
The Woggle-Bug shuddered.
“Or, if that won’t do, we might use you for a Hungarian goulash, stewed
and highly spiced,” she added, cruelly.
This programme of extermination was so terrible that the prisoners
looked upon one another in a panic of fear. The Scarecrow alone did not