Oz, The Complete Collection

by L. Frank Baum

  “It’s the thistles,” said Betsy. “They prick their legs.”

  Hearing this, all looked down, and sure enough the ground was thick with thistles, which covered the plain from the point where they stood way up to the walls of the mysterious city. No pathways through them could be seen at all; here the soft grass ended and the growth of thistles began.

  “They’re the prickliest thistles I ever felt,” grumbled the Lion. “My legs smart yet from their stings, though I jumped out of them as quick as I could.”

  “Here is a new difficulty,” remarked the Wizard in a grieved tone. “The city has stopped hopping around, it is true; but how are we to get to it, over this mass of prickers?”

  “They can’t hurt me,” said the thick-skinned Woozy, advancing fearlessly and trampling among the thistles.

  “Nor me,” said the Wooden Sawhorse.

  “But the Lion and the Mule cannot stand the prickers,” asserted Dorothy, “and we can’t leave them behind.”

  “Must we all go back?” asked Trot.

  “Course not!” replied Button-Bright scornfully. “Always, when there’s trouble, there’s a way out of it, if you can find it.”

  “I wish the Scarecrow was here,” said Scraps, standing on her head on the Woozy’s square back. “His splendid brains would soon show us how to conquer this field of thistles.”

  “What’s the matter with your brains?” asked the boy.

  “Nothing,” she said, making a flip-flop into the thistles and dancing among them without feeling their sharp points. “I could tell you in half a minute how to get over the thistles if I wanted to.”

  “Tell us, Scraps!” begged Dorothy.

  “I don’t want to wear my brains out with overwork,” replied the Patchwork Girl.

  “Don’t you love Ozma? And don’t you want to find her?” asked Betsy reproachfully.

  “Yes, indeed,” said Scraps, walking on her hands as an acrobat does at the circus.

  “Well, we can’t find Ozma unless we get past these thistles,” declared Dorothy.

  Scraps danced around them two or three times, without reply. Then she said, “Don’t look at me, you stupid folks. Look at those blankets.”

  The Wizard’s face brightened at once.

  “Of course!” he exclaimed. “Why didn’t we think of those blankets before?”

  “Because you haven’t magic brains,” laughed Scraps. “Such brains as you have are of the common sort that grow in your heads, like weeds in a garden. I’m sorry for you people who have to be born in order to be alive.”

  But the Wizard was not listening to her. He quickly removed the blankets from the back of the Sawhorse and spread one of them upon the thistles, just next the grass. The thick cloth rendered the prickers harmless, so the Wizard walked over this first blanket and spread the second one farther on, in the direction of the phantom city.

  “These blankets,” said he, “are for the Lion and the Mule to walk upon. The Sawhorse and the Woozy can walk on the thistles.”

  So the Lion and the Mule walked over the first blanket and stood upon the second one until the Wizard had picked up the one they had passed over and spread it in front of them, when they advanced to that one and waited while the one behind them was again spread in front.

  “This is slow work,” said the Wizard, “but it will get us to the city after a while.”

  “The city is a good half mile away, yet,” announced Button-Bright.

  “And this is awful hard work for the Wizard,” added Trot.

  “Why couldn’t the Lion ride on the Woozy’s back?” asked Dorothy. “It’s a big, flat back, and the Woozy’s mighty strong. Perhaps the Lion wouldn’t fall off.”

  “You may try it, if you like,” said the Woozy to the Lion. “I can take you to the city in a jiffy and then come back for Hank.”

  “I’m—I’m afraid,” said the Cowardly Lion. He was twice as big as the Woozy.

  “Try it,” pleaded Dorothy.

  “And take a tumble among the thistles?” asked the Lion reproachfully. But when the Woozy came close to him the big beast suddenly bounded upon its back and managed to balance himself there, although forced to hold his four legs so close together that he was in danger of toppling over. The great weight of the monster Lion did not seem to affect the Woozy, who called to his rider: “Hold on tight!” and ran swiftly over the thistles toward the city.

  The others stood on the blanket and watched the strange sight anxiously. Of course the Lion couldn’t “hold on tight” because there was nothing to hold to, and he swayed from side to side as if likely to fall off any moment. Still, he managed to stick to the Woozy’s back until they were close to the walls of the city, when he leaped to the ground. Next moment the Woozy came dashing back at full speed.

  “There’s a little strip of ground next the wall where there are no thistles,” he told them, when he had reached the adventurers once more. “Now, then, friend Hank, see if you can ride as well as the Lion did.”

  “Take the others first,” proposed the Mule. So the Sawhorse and the Woozy made a couple of trips over the thistles to the city walls and carried all the people in safety, Dorothy holding little Toto in her arms. The travelers then sat in a group on a little hillock, just outside the wall, and looked at the great blocks of grey stone and waited for the Woozy to bring Hank to them. The Mule was very awkward and his legs trembled so badly that more than once they thought he would tumble off, but finally he reached them in safety and the entire party was now reunited. More than that, they had reached the city that had eluded them for so long and in so strange a manner.

  “The gates must be around the other side,” said the Wizard. “Let us follow the curve of the wall until we reach an opening in it.”

  “Which way?” asked Dorothy.

  “We must guess at that,” he replied. “Suppose we go to the left? One direction is as good as another.”

  They formed in marching order and went around the city wall to the left. It wasn’t a big city, as I have said, but to go way around it, outside the high wall, was quite a walk, as they became aware. But around it our adventurers went, without finding any sign of a gateway or other opening. When they had returned to the little mound from which they had started, they dismounted from the animals and again seated themselves on the grassy mound.

  “It’s mighty queer, isn’t it?” asked Button-Bright.

  “There must be some way for the people to get out and in,” declared Dorothy. “Do you s’pose they have flying machines, Wizard?”

  “No,” he replied, “for in that case they would be flying all over the Land of Oz, and we know they have not done that. Flying machines are unknown here. I think it more likely that the people use ladders to get over the walls.”

  “It would be an awful climb over that high stone wall,” said Betsy.

  “Stone, is it?” cried Scraps, who was again dancing wildly around, for she never tired and could never keep still for long.

  “Course it’s stone,” answered Betsy scornfully. “Can’t you see?”

  “Yes,” said Scraps, going closer. “I can see the wall, but I can’t feel it.” And then, with her arms outstretched, she did a very queer thing. She walked right into the wall and disappeared.

  “For goodness sake!” cried Dorothy, amazed, as indeed they all were.

  Chapter 9

  The HIGH COCO-LORUM of THI

  nd now the Patchwork Girl came dancing out of the wall again.

  “Come on!” she called. “It isn’t there. There isn’t any wall at all.”

  “What? No wall?” exclaimed the Wizard.

  “Nothing like it,” said Scraps. “It’s a make-believe. You see it, but it isn’t. Come on into the city; we’ve been wasting time.”

  With this she danced into the wall again and once more disappeared. Button-Bright, who was rather venturesome, dashed away after her and also became invisible to them. The others followed more cautiously, stretching out their hands to feel t
he wall and finding, to their astonishment, that they could feel nothing because nothing opposed them. They walked on a few steps and found themselves in the streets of a very beautiful city. Behind them they again saw the wall, grim and forbidding as ever; but now they knew it was merely an illusion, prepared to keep strangers from entering the city.

  But the wall was soon forgotten, for in front of them were a number of quaint people who stared at them in amazement, as if wondering where they had come from. Our friends forgot their good manners, for a time, and returned the stares with interest, for so remarkable a people had never before been discovered in all the remarkable Land of Oz.

  Their heads were shaped like diamonds and their bodies like hearts. All the hair they had was a little bunch at the tip top of their diamond-shaped heads and their eyes were very large and round and their noses and mouths very small. Their clothing was tight-fitting and of brilliant colors, being handsomely embroidered in quaint designs with gold or silver threads; but on their feet they wore sandals with no stockings whatever. The expression of their faces was pleasant enough, although they now showed surprise at the appearance of strangers so unlike themselves, and our friends thought they seemed quite harmless.

  “I beg your pardon,” said the Wizard, speaking for his party, “for intruding upon you uninvited, but we are traveling on important business and find it necessary to visit your city. Will you kindly tell us by what name your city is called?”

  They looked at one another uncertainly, each expecting some other to answer. Finally, a short one whose heart-shaped body was very broad replied, “We have no occasion to call our city anything. It is where we live, that is all.”

  “But by what name do others call your city?” asked the Wizard.

  “We know of no others, except yourselves,” said the man. And then he inquired, “Were you born with those queer forms you have, or has some cruel magician transformed you to them from your natural shapes?”

  “These are our natural shapes,” declared the Wizard, “and we consider them very good shapes, too.”

  The group of inhabitants was constantly being enlarged by others who joined it. All were evidently startled and uneasy at the arrival of strangers.

  “Have you a King?” asked Dorothy, who knew it was better to speak with someone in authority. But the man shook his diamond-like head.

  “What is a King?” he asked.

  “Isn’t there anyone who rules over you?” inquired the Wizard.

  “No,” was the reply, “each of us rules himself; or, at least tries to do so. It is not an easy thing to do, as you probably know.”

  The Wizard reflected.

  “If you have disputes among you,” said he after a little thought, “who settles them?”

  “The High Coco-Lorum,” they answered in a chorus.

  “And who is he?”

  “The judge who enforces the Laws,” said the man who had first spoken.

  “Then he is the principal person here?” continued the Wizard.

  “Well, I would not say that,” returned the man in a puzzled way. “The High Coco-Lorum is a public servant. However, he represents the Laws, which we must all obey.”

  “I think,” said the Wizard, “we ought to see your High Coco-Lorum and talk with him. Our mission here requires us to consult one high in authority, and the High Coco-Lorum ought to be high, whatever else he is.”

  The inhabitants seemed to consider this proposition reasonable, for they nodded their diamond-shaped heads in approval. So the broad one who had been their spokesman said: “Follow me,” and, turning, led the way along one of the streets.

  The entire party followed him, the natives falling in behind. The dwellings they passed were quite nicely planned and seemed comfortable and convenient. After leading them a few blocks their conductor stopped before a house which was neither better nor worse than the others. The doorway was shaped to admit the strangely formed bodies of these people, being narrow at the top, broad in the middle and tapering at the bottom. The windows were made in much the same way, giving the house a most peculiar appearance. When their guide opened the gate a music-box concealed in the gatepost began to play, and the sound attracted the attention of the High Coco-Lorum, who appeared at an open window and inquired, “What has happened now?”

  But in the same moment his eyes fell upon the strangers and he hastened to open the door and admit them—all but the animals, which were left outside with the throng of natives that had now gathered. For a small city there seemed to be a large number of inhabitants, but they did not try to enter the house and contented themselves with staring curiously at the strange animals. Toto followed Dorothy.

  Our friends entered a large room at the front of the house, where the High Coco-Lorum asked them to be seated.

  “I hope your mission here is a peaceful one,” he said, looking a little worried, “for the Thists are not very good fighters and object to being conquered.”

  “Are your people called Thists?” asked Dorothy.

  “Yes. I thought you knew that. And we call our city Thi.”

  “Oh!”

  “We are Thists because we eat thistles, you know,” continued the High Coco-Lorum.

  “Do you really eat those prickly things?” inquired Button-Bright wonderingly.

  “Why not?” replied the other. “The sharp points of the thistles cannot hurt us, because all our insides are gold-lined.”

  “Gold-lined!”

  “To be sure. Our throats and stomachs are lined with solid gold, and we find the thistles nourishing and good to eat. As a matter of fact, there is nothing else in our country that is fit for food. All around the City of Thi grow countless thistles, and all we need do is to go and gather them. If we wanted anything else to eat, we would have to plant it, and grow it, and harvest it, and that would be a lot of trouble and make us work, which is an occupation we detest.”

  “But tell me, please,” said the Wizard, “how does it happen that your city jumps around so, from one part of the country to another?”

  “The city doesn’t jump; it doesn’t move at all,” declared the High Coco-Lorum. “However, I will admit that the land that surrounds it has a trick of turning this way or that; and so, if one is standing upon the plain and facing north, he is likely to find himself suddenly facing west—or east—or south. But once you reach the thistle fields you are on solid ground.”

  “Ah, I begin to understand,” said the Wizard, nodding his head. “But I have another question to ask: How does it happen that the Thists have no King to rule over them?”

  “Hush!” whispered the High Coco-Lorum, looking uneasily around to make sure they were not overheard. “In reality, I am the King, but the people don’t know it. They think they rule themselves, but the fact is I have everything my own way. No one else knows anything about our Laws, and so I make the Laws to suit myself. If any oppose me, or question my acts, I tell them it’s the Law and that settles it. If I called myself King, however, and wore a crown and lived in royal style, the people would not like me, and might do me harm. As the High Coco-Lorum of Thi, I am considered a very agreeable person.”

  “It seems a very clever arrangement,” said the Wizard. “And now, as you are the principal person in Thi, I beg you to tell us if the Royal Ozma is a captive in your city.”

  “No,” answered the diamond-headed man, “we have no captives. No strangers but yourselves are here, and we have never before heard of the Royal Ozma.”

  “She rules over all of Oz,” said Dorothy, “and so she rules your city and you, because you are in the Winkie Country, which is a part of the Land of Oz.”

  “It may be,” returned the High Coco-Lorum, “for we do not study geography and have never inquired whether we live in the Land of Oz or not. And any Ruler who rules us from a distance and unknown to us is welcome to the job. But what has happened to your Royal Ozma?”

  “Someone has stolen her,” said the Wizard. “Do you happen to have any talented magician a
mong your people—one who is especially clever, you know?”

  “No, none especially clever. We do some magic, of course, but it is all of the ordinary kind. I do not think any of us has yet aspired to stealing Rulers, either by magic or otherwise.”

  “Then we’ve come a long way for nothing!” exclaimed Trot regretfully.

  “But we are going farther than this,” asserted the Patchwork Girl, bending her stuffed body backward until her yarn hair touched the floor and then walking around on her hands with her feet in the air.

  The High Coco-Lorum watched Scraps admiringly.

  “You may go farther on, of course,” said he, “but I advise you not to. The Herkus live back of us, beyond the thistles and the twisting lands, and they are not very nice people to meet, I assure you.”

  “Are they giants?” asked Betsy.

  “They are worse than that,” was the reply. “They have giants for their slaves and they are so much stronger than giants that the poor slaves dare not rebel, for fear of being torn to pieces.”

  “How do you know?” asked Scraps.

  “Everyone says so,” answered the High Coco-Lorum.

  “Have you seen the Herkus yourself?” inquired Dorothy.

  “No, but what everyone says must be true; otherwise, what would be the use of their saying it?”

  “We were told, before we got here, that you people hitch dragons to your chariots,” said the little girl.

  “So we do,” declared the High Coco-Lorum. “And that reminds me that I ought to entertain you, as strangers and my guests, by taking you for a ride around our splendid City of Thi.”

  He touched a button and a band began to play. At least, they heard the music of a band, but couldn’t tell where it came from.

  “That tune is the order to my charioteer to bring around my dragon-chariot,” said the High Coco-Lorum. “Every time I give an order it is in music, which is a much more pleasant way to address servants than in cold, stern words.”

  “Does this dragon of yours bite?” asked Button-Bright.

  “Mercy no! Do you think I’d risk the safety of my innocent people by using a biting dragon to draw my chariot? I’m proud to say that my dragon is harmless—unless his steering gear breaks—and he was manufactured at the famous dragon-factory in this City of Thi. Here he comes and you may examine him for yourselves.”