The Patchwork Girl of Oz by Lyman Frank Baum (romantic story to read .txt) 📕

“You can’t see ‘em work, but they’re there, all right,” declared the Shaggy Man. “I hadn’t much confidence in his brains myself, when first I came to Oz, for a humbug Wizard gave them to him; but I was soon convinced that the Scarecrow is really wise; and, unless his brains make him so, such wisdom is unaccountable.”

“Is the Wizard of Oz a humbug?” asked Ojo.

“Not now. He was once, but he has reformed and now assists Glinda the Good, who is the Royal Sorceress of Oz and the only one licensed to practice magic or sorcery. Glinda has taught our old Wizard a good many clever things, so he is no longer a humbug.”

They walked a little while in silence and then Ojo said:

“If Ozma forbids the Crooked Magician to restore Unc Nunkie to life, what shall I do?”

The Shaggy Man shook his head.

“In that case you can’t do anything,” he said. “But don’t be discouraged yet. We will go to Princess Dorothy and tell her your troubles, and then we will let her talk to Ozma. Dorothy has the kindest little heart in the world, and she has been through so many troubles herself that she is sure to sympathize with you.”

“Is Dorothy the little girl who came here from Kansas?” asked the boy.

“Yes. In Kansas she was Dorothy Gale. I used to know her there, and she brought me to the Land of Oz. But now Ozma has made her a Princess, and Dorothy’s Aunt Em and Uncle Henry are here, too.” Here the Shaggy Man uttered a long sigh, and then he continued: “It’s a queer country, this Land of Oz; but I like it, nevertheless.”

“What is queer about it?” asked Scraps.

“You, for instance,” said he.

“Did you see no girls as beautiful as I am in your own country?” she inquired.

“None with the same gorgeous, variegated beauty,” he confessed. “In America a girl stuffed with cotton wouldn’t be alive, nor would anyone think of making a girl out of a patchwork quilt.”

“What a queer country America must be!” she exclaimed in great surprise. “The Scarecrow, whom you say is wise, told me I am the most beautiful creature he has ever seen.”

“I know; and perhaps you are—from a scarecrow point of view,” replied the Shaggy Man; but why he smiled as he said it Scraps could not imagine.

As they drew nearer to the Emerald City the travelers were filled with admiration for the splendid scenery they beheld. Handsome houses stood on both sides of the road and each had a green lawn before it as well as a pretty flower garden.

“In another hour,” said the Shaggy Man, “we shall come in sight of the walls of the Royal City.”

He was walking ahead, with Scraps, and behind them came the Woozy and the Glass Cat. Ojo had lagged behind, for in spite of the warnings he had received the boy’s eyes were fastened on the clover that bordered the road of yellow bricks and he was eager to discover if such a thing as a six-leaved clover really existed.

Suddenly he stopped short and bent over to examine the ground more closely. Yes; here at last was a clover with six spreading leaves. He counted them carefully, to make sure. In an instant his heart leaped with joy, for this was one of the important things he had come for—one of the things that would restore dear Unc Nunkie to life.

He glanced ahead and saw that none of his companions was looking back. Neither were any other people about, for it was midway between two houses. The temptation was too strong to be resisted.

“I might search for weeks and weeks, and never find another six-leaved clover,” he told himself, and quickly plucking the stem from the plant he placed the prized clover in his basket, covering it with the other things he carried there. Then, trying to look as if nothing had happened, he hurried forward and overtook his comrades.

The Emerald City, which is the most splendid as well as the most beautiful city in any fairyland, is surrounded by a high, thick wall of green marble, polished smooth and set with glistening emeralds. There are four gates, one facing the Munchkin Country, one facing the Country of the Winkies, one facing the Country of the Quadlings and one facing the Country of the Gillikins. The Emerald City lies directly in the center of these four important countries of Oz. The gates had bars of pure gold, and on either side of each gateway were built high towers, from which floated gay banners. Other towers were set at distances along the walls, which were broad enough for four people to walk abreast upon.

This enclosure, all green and gold and glittering with precious gems, was indeed a wonderful sight to greet our travelers, who first observed it from the top of a little hill; but beyond the wall was the vast city it surrounded, and hundreds of jeweled spires, domes and minarets, flaunting flags and banners, reared their crests far above the towers of the gateways. In the center of the city our friends could see the tops of many magnificent trees, some nearly as tall as the spires of the buildings, and the Shaggy Man told them that these trees were in the royal gardens of Princess Ozma.

They stood a long time on the hilltop, feasting their eyes on the splendor of the Emerald City.

“Whee!” exclaimed Scraps, clasping her padded hands in ecstacy, “that’ll do for me to live in, all right. No more of the Munchkin Country for these patches—and no more of the Crooked Magician!”

“Why, you belong to Dr. Pipt,” replied Ojo, looking at her in amazement. “You were made for a servant, Scraps, so you are personal property and not your own mistress.”

“Bother Dr. Pipt! If he wants me, let him come here and get me. I’ll not go back to his den of my own accord; that’s certain. Only one place in the Land of Oz is fit to live in, and that’s the Emerald City. It’s lovely! It’s almost as beautiful as I am, Ojo.”

“In this country,” remarked the Shaggy Man, “people live wherever our Ruler tells them to. It wouldn’t do to have everyone live in the Emerald City, you know, for some must plow the land and raise grains and fruits and vegetables, while others chop wood in the forests, or fish in the rivers, or herd the sheep and the cattle.”

“Poor things!” said Scraps.

“I’m not sure they are not happier than the city people,” replied the Shaggy Man. “There’s a freedom and independence in country life that not even the Emerald City can give one. I know that lots of the city people would like to get back to the land. The Scarecrow lives in the country, and so do the Tin Woodman and Jack Pumpkinhead; yet all three would be welcome to live in Ozma’s palace if they cared to. Too much splendor becomes tiresome, you know. But, if we’re to reach the Emerald City before sundown, we must hurry, for it is yet a long way off.”

The entrancing sight of the city had put new energy into them all and they hurried forward with lighter steps than before. There was much to interest them along the roadway, for the houses were now set more closely together and they met a good many people who were coming or going from one place or another. All these seemed happy-faced, pleasant people, who nodded graciously to the strangers as they passed, and exchanged words of greeting.

At last they reached the great gateway, just as the sun was setting and adding its red glow to the glitter of the emeralds on the green walls and spires. Somewhere inside the city a band could be heard playing sweet music; a soft, subdued hum, as of many voices, reached their ears; from the neighboring yards came the low mooing of cows waiting to be milked.

They were almost at the gate when the golden bars slid back and a tall soldier stepped out and faced them. Ojo thought he had never seen so tall a man before. The soldier wore a handsome green and gold uniform, with a tall hat in which was a waving plume, and he had a belt thickly encrusted with jewels. But the most peculiar thing about him was his long green beard, which fell far below his waist and perhaps made him seem taller than he really was.

“Halt!” said the Soldier with the Green Whiskers, not in a stern voice but rather in a friendly tone.

They halted before he spoke and stood looking at him.

“Good evening, Colonel,” said the Shaggy Man. “What’s the news since I left? Anything important?”

“Billina has hatched out thirteen new chickens,” replied the Soldier with the Green Whiskers, “and they’re the cutest little fluffy yellow balls you ever saw. The Yellow Hen is mighty proud of those children, I can tell you.”

“She has a right to be,” agreed the Shaggy Man. “Let me see; that’s about seven thousand chicks she has hatched out; isn’t it, General?”

“That, at least,” was the reply. “You will have to visit Billina and congratulate her.”

“It will give me pleasure to do that,” said the Shaggy Man. “But you will observe that I have brought some strangers home with me. I am going to take them to see Dorothy.”

“One moment, please,” said the soldier, barring their way as they started to enter the gate. “I am on duty, and I have orders to execute. Is anyone in your party named Ojo the Unlucky?”

“Why, that’s me!” cried Ojo, astonished at hearing his name on the lips of a stranger.

The Soldier with the Green Whiskers nodded. “I thought so,” said he, “and I am sorry to announce that it is my painful duty to arrest you.”

“Arrest me!” exclaimed the boy. “What for?”

“I haven’t looked to see,” answered the soldier. Then he drew a paper from his breast pocket and glanced at it. “Oh, yes; you are to be arrested for willfully breaking one of the Laws of Oz.”

“Breaking a law!” said Scraps. “Nonsense, Soldier; you’re joking.”

“Not this time,” returned the soldier, with a sigh. “My dear child—what are you, a rummage sale or a guess-me-quick?—in me you behold the Body-Guard of our gracious Ruler, Princess Ozma, as well as the Royal Army of Oz and the Police Force of the Emerald City.”

“And only one man!” exclaimed the Patchwork Girl.

“Only one, and plenty enough. In my official positions I’ve had nothing to do for a good many years—so long that I began to fear I was absolutely useless—until to-day. An hour ago I was called to the presence of her Highness, Ozma of Oz, and told to arrest a boy named Ojo the Unlucky, who was journeying from the Munchkin Country to the Emerald City and would arrive in a short time. This command so astonished me that I nearly fainted, for it is the first time anyone has merited arrest since I can remember. You are rightly named Ojo the Unlucky, my poor boy, since you have broken a Law of Oz.

“But you are wrong,” said Scraps. “Ozma is wrong—you are all wrong—for Ojo has broken no Law.”

“Then he will soon be free again,” replied the Soldier with the Green Whiskers. “Anyone accused of crime is given a fair trial by our Ruler and has every chance to prove his innocence. But just now Ozma’s orders must be obeyed.”

With this he took from his pocket a pair of handcuffs made of gold and set with rubies and diamonds, and these he snapped over Ojo’s wrists.