The Marvelous Land of Oz
give way to despair. He stood quietly before the Queen and his brow was
wrinkled in deep thought as he strove to find some means to escape.
While thus engaged he felt the straw within his breast move gently. At
once his expression changed from sadness to joy, and raising his hand
he quickly unbuttoned the front of his jacket.
This action did not pass unnoticed by the crowd of girls clustering
about him, but none of them suspected what he was doing until a tiny
grey mouse leaped from his bosom to the floor and scampered away
between the feet of the Army of Revolt. Another mouse quickly followed;
then another and another, in rapid succession. And suddenly such a
scream of terror went up from the Army that it might easily have filled
the stoutest heart with consternation. The flight that ensued turned to
a stampede, and the stampede to a panic.
For while the startled mice rushed wildly about the room the Scarecrow
had only time to note a whirl of skirts and a twinkling of feet as the
girls disappeared from the palace—pushing and crowding one another in
their mad efforts to escape.
The Queen, at the first alarm, stood up on the cushions of the throne
and began to dance frantically upon her tiptoes. Then a mouse ran up
the cushions, and with a terrified leap poor Jinjur shot clear over the
head of the Scarecrow and escaped through an archway—never pausing in
her wild career until she had reached the city gates.
So, in less time than I can explain, the throne room was deserted by
all save the Scarecrow and his friends, and the Woggle-Bug heaved a
deep sigh of relief as he exclaimed:
“Thank goodness, we are saved!”
“For a time, yes;” answered the Tin Woodman. “But the enemy will soon
return, I fear.”
“Let us bar all the entrances to the palace!” said the Scarecrow. “Then
we shall have time to think what is best to be done.”
So all except Jack Pumpkinhead, who was still tied fast to the
Saw-Horse, ran to the various entrances of the royal palace and closed
the heavy doors, bolting and locking them securely. Then, knowing that
the Army of Revolt could not batter down the barriers in several days,
the adventurers gathered once more in the throne room for a council of
war.
The Scarecrow Takes Time to Think
“It seems to me,” began the Scarecrow, when all were again assembled in
the throne room, “that the girl Jinjur is quite right in claiming to be
Queen. And if she is right, then I am wrong, and we have no business to
be occupying her palace.”
“But you were the King until she came,” said the Woggle-Bug, strutting
up and down with his hands in his pockets; “so it appears to me that
she is the interloper instead of you.”
“Especially as we have just conquered her and put her to flight,” added
the Pumpkinhead, as he raised his hands to turn his face toward the
Scarecrow.
“Have we really conquered her?” asked the Scarecrow, quietly. “Look out
of the window, and tell me what you see.”
Tip ran to the window and looked out.
“The palace is surrounded by a double row of girl soldiers,” he
announced.
“I thought so,” returned the Scarecrow. “We are as truly their
prisoners as we were before the mice frightened them from the palace.”
“My friend is right,” said Nick Chopper, who had been polishing his
breast with a bit of chamois-leather. “Jinjur is still the Queen, and
we are her prisoners.”
“But I hope she cannot get at us,” exclaimed the Pumpkinhead, with a
shiver of fear. “She threatened to make tarts of me, you know.”
“Don’t worry,” said the Tin Woodman. “It cannot matter greatly. If you
stay shut up here you will spoil in time, anyway. A good tart is far
more admirable than a decayed intellect.”
“Very true,” agreed the Scarecrow.
“Oh, dear!” moaned Jack; “what an unhappy lot is mine! Why, dear
father, did you not make me out of tin—or even out of straw—so that I
would keep indefinitely.”
“Shucks!” returned Tip, indignantly. “You ought to be glad that I made
you at all.” Then he added, reflectively, “everything has to come to an
end, some time.”
“But I beg to remind you,” broke in the Woggle-Bug, who had a
distressed look in his bulging, round eyes, “that this terrible Queen
Jinjur suggested making a goulash of me—Me! the only Highly Magnified
and Thoroughly Educated Woggle-Bug in the wide, wide world!”
“I think it was a brilliant idea,” remarked the Scarecrow, approvingly.
“Don’t you imagine he would make a better soup?” asked the Tin Woodman,
turning toward his friend.
“Well, perhaps,” acknowledged the Scarecrow.
The Woggle-Bug groaned.
“I can see, in my mind’s eye,” said he, mournfully, “the goats eating
small pieces of my dear comrade, the Tin Woodman, while my soup is
being cooked on a bonfire built of the Saw-Horse and Jack Pumpkinhead’s
body, and Queen Jinjur watches me boil while she feeds the flames with
my friend the Scarecrow!”
This morbid picture cast a gloom over the entire party, making them
restless and anxious.
“It can’t happen for some time,” said the Tin Woodman, trying to speak
cheerfully; “for we shall be able to keep Jinjur out of the palace
until she manages to break down the doors.”
“And in the meantime I am liable to starve to death, and so is the
Woggle-Bug,” announced Tip.
“As for me,” said the Woggle-Bug, “I think that I could live for some
time on Jack Pumpkinhead. Not that I prefer pumpkins for food; but I
believe they are somewhat nutritious, and Jack’s head is large and
plump.”
“How heartless!” exclaimed the Tin Woodman, greatly shocked. “Are we
cannibals, let me ask? Or are we faithful friends?”
“I see very clearly that we cannot stay shut up in this palace,” said
the Scarecrow, with decision. “So let us end this mournful talk and try
to discover a means to escape.”
At this suggestion they all gathered eagerly around the throne, wherein
was seated the Scarecrow, and as Tip sat down upon a stool there fell
from his pocket a pepper-box, which rolled upon the floor.
“What is this?” asked Nick Chopper, picking up the box.
“Be careful!” cried the boy. “That’s my Powder of Life. Don’t spill it,
for it is nearly gone.”
“And what is the Powder of Life?” enquired the Scarecrow, as Tip
replaced the box carefully in his pocket.
“It’s some magical stuff old Mombi got from a crooked sorcerer,”
explained the boy. “She brought Jack to life with it, and afterward I
used it to bring the Saw-Horse to life. I guess it will make anything
live that is sprinkled with it; but there’s only about one dose left.”
“Then it is very precious,” said the Tin Woodman.
“Indeed it is,” agreed the Scarecrow. “It may prove our best means of
escape from our difficulties. I believe I will think for a few minutes;
so I will thank you, friend Tip, to get out your knife and rip this
heavy crown from my forehead.”
Tip soon cut the stitches that had fastened the crown to the
Scarecrow’s head, and the former monarch of the Emerald City removed it
with a sigh of relief and hung it on a peg beside the throne.
“That is my last memento of royalty” said he; “and I’m glad to get rid
of it. The former King of this City, who was named Pastoria, lost the
crown to the Wonderful Wizard, who passed it on to me. Now the girl
Jinjur claims it, and I sincerely hope it will not give her a
headache.”
“A kindly thought, which I greatly admire,” said the Tin Woodman,
nodding approvingly.
“And now I will indulge in a quiet think,” continued the Scarecrow,
lying back in the throne.
The others remained as silent and still as possible, so as not to
disturb him; for all had great confidence in the extraordinary brains
of the Scarecrow.
And, after what seemed a very long time indeed to the anxious watchers,
the thinker sat up, looked upon his friends with his most whimsical
expression, and said:
“My brains work beautifully today. I’m quite proud of them. Now,
listen! If we attempt to escape through the doors of the palace we
shall surely be captured. And, as we can’t escape through the ground,
there is only one other thing to be done. We must escape through the
air!”
He paused to note the effect of these words; but all his hearers seemed
puzzled and unconvinced.
“The Wonderful Wizard escaped in a balloon,” he continued. “We don’t
know how to make a balloon, of course; but any sort of thing that can
fly through the air can carry us easily. So I suggest that my friend
the Tin Woodman, who is a skillful mechanic, shall build some sort of a
machine, with good strong wings, to carry us; and our friend Tip can
then bring the Thing to life with his magical powder.”
“Bravo!” cried Nick Chopper.
“What splendid brains!” murmured Jack.
“Really quite clever!” said the Educated Woggle-Bug.
“I believe it can be done,” declared Tip; “that is, if the Tin Woodman
is equal to making the Thing.”
“I’ll do my best,” said Nick, cheerily; “and, as a matter of fact, I do
not often fail in what I attempt. But the Thing will have to be built
on the roof of the palace, so it can rise comfortably into the air.”
“To be sure,” said the Scarecrow.
“Then let us search through the palace,” continued the Tin Woodman,
“and carry all the material we can find to the roof, where I will begin
my work.”
“First, however,” said the Pumpkinhead, “I beg you will release me from
this horse, and make me another leg to walk with. For in my present
condition I am of no use to myself or to anyone else.”
So the Tin Woodman knocked a mahogany center-table to pieces with his
axe and fitted one of the legs, which was beautifully carved, on to the
body of Jack Pumpkinhead, who was very proud of the acquisition.
“It seems strange,” said he, as he watched the Tin Woodman work, “that
my left leg should be the most elegant and substantial part of me.”
“That proves you are unusual,” returned the Scarecrow. “and I am
convinced that the only people worthy of consideration in this world
are the unusual ones. For the common folks are like the leaves of a
tree, and live and die unnoticed.”
“Spoken like a philosopher!” cried the Woggle-Bug, as he assisted the
Tin Woodman to set Jack upon his feet.
“How do you feel now?” asked Tip, watching the Pumpkinhead stump around
to try his new leg.
“As good as new” answered Jack, joyfully, “and quite ready to assist
you all to escape.”
“Then let us get to work,” said the Scarecrow, in a business-like tone.
So, glad to be doing anything that might lead to the end of their
captivity, the friends separated to wander over the palace in search of
fitting material to use in the construction of their aerial machine.
The Astonishing Flight of the Gump
When the adventurers reassembled upon the roof it was found that a
remarkably queer assortment of articles had been selected by the
various members of the party. No one seemed to have a very clear idea
of what was required, but all had brought something.
The Woggle-Bug had taken from its position over the mantle-piece in the
great hallway the head of a Gump, which was adorned with wide-spreading
antlers; and this, with great care and greater difficulty, the insect
had carried up the stairs to the roof. This Gump resembled an Elk’s
head, only the nose turned upward in a saucy manner and there were
whiskers upon its chin, like those of a billy-goat. Why the Woggle-Bug
selected this article he could not have explained, except that it had
aroused his curiosity.
Tip, with the aid of the Saw-Horse, had brought a large, upholstered
sofa to the roof. It was an oldfashioned piece of furniture, with high