The Classic Children's Literature Collection: 39 Classic Novels

by Various Authors

  “That is true,” answered the little Wizard; “therefore it will give me pleasure to explain my connection with your country. In the first place, I must tell you that I was born in Omaha, and my father, who was a politician, named me Oscar Zoroaster Phadrig Isaac Norman Henkle Emmannuel Ambroise Diggs, Diggs being the last name because he could think of no more to go before it. Taken altogether, it was a dreadfully long name to weigh down a poor innocent child, and one of the hardest lessons I ever learned was to remember my own name. When I grew up I just called myself O. Z., because the other initials were P-I-N-H-E-A-D; and that spelled ‘pinhead,’ which was a reflection on my intelligence.”

  “Surely no one could blame you for cutting your name short,” said Ozma, sympathetically. “But didn’t you cut it almost too short?”

  “Perhaps so,” replied the Wizard. “When a young man I ran away from home and joined a circus. I used to call myself a Wizard, and do tricks of ventriloquism.”

  “What does that mean?” asked the Princess.

  “Throwing my voice into any object I pleased, to make it appear that the object was speaking instead of me. Also I began to make balloon ascensions. On my balloon and on all the other articles I used in the circus I painted the two initials: ‘O. Z.’, to show that those things belonged to me.

  “One day my balloon ran away with me and brought me across the deserts to this beautiful country. When the people saw me come from the sky they naturally thought me some superior creature, and bowed down before me. I told them I was a Wizard, and showed them some easy tricks that amazed them; and when they saw the initials painted on the balloon they called me Oz.”

  “Now I begin to understand,” said the Princess, smiling.

  “At that time,” continued the Wizard, busily eating his soup while talking, “there were four separate countries in this Land, each one of the four being ruled by a Witch. But the people thought my power was greater than that of the Witches; and perhaps the Witches thought so too, for they never dared oppose me. I ordered the Emerald City to be built just where the four countries cornered together, and when it was completed I announced myself the Ruler of the Land of Oz, which included all the four countries of the Munchkins, the Gillikins, the Winkies and the Quadlings. Over this Land I ruled in peace for many years, until I grew old and longed to see my native city once again. So when Dorothy was first blown to this place by a cyclone I arranged to go away with her in a balloon; but the balloon escaped too soon and carried me back alone. After many adventures I reached Omaha, only to find that all my old friends were dead or had moved away. So, having nothing else to do, I joined a circus again, and made my balloon ascensions until the earthquake caught me.”

  “That is quite a history,” said Ozma; “but there is a little more history about the Land of Oz that you do not seem to understand—perhaps for the reason that no one ever told it you. Many years before you came here this Land was united under one Ruler, as it is now, and the Ruler’s name was always ‘Oz,’ which means in our language ‘Great and Good’; or, if the Ruler happened to be a woman, her name was always ‘Ozma.’ But once upon a time four Witches leagued together to depose the king and rule the four parts of the kingdom themselves; so when the Ruler, my grandfather, was hunting one day, one Wicked Witch named Mombi stole him and carried him away, keeping him a close prisoner. Then the Witches divided up the kingdom, and ruled the four parts of it until you came here. That was why the people were so glad to see you, and why they thought from your initials that you were their rightful ruler.”

  “But, at that time,” said the Wizard, thoughtfully, “there were two Good Witches and two Wicked Witches ruling in the land.”

  “Yes,” replied Ozma, “because a good Witch had conquered Mombi in the North and Glinda the Good had conquered the evil Witch in the South. But Mombi was still my grandfather’s jailor, and afterward my father’s jailor. When I was born she transformed me into a boy, hoping that no one would ever recognize me and know that I was the rightful Princess of the Land of Oz. But I escaped from her and am now the Ruler of my people.”

  “I am very glad of that,” said the Wizard, “and hope you will consider me one of your most faithful and devoted subjects.”

  “We owe a great deal to the Wonderful Wizard,” continued the Princess, “for it was you who built this splendid Emerald City.”

  “Your people built it,” he answered. “I only bossed the job, as we say in Omaha.”

  “But you ruled it wisely and well for many years,” said she, “and made the people proud of your magical art. So, as you are now too old to wander abroad and work in a circus, I offer you a home here as long as you live. You shall be the Official Wizard of my kingdom, and be treated with every respect and consideration.”

  “I accept your kind offer with gratitude, gracious Princess,” the little man said, in a soft voice, and they could all see that tear-drops were standing in his keen old eyes. It meant a good deal to him to secure a home like this.

  “He’s only a humbug Wizard, though,” said Dorothy, smiling at him.

  “And that is the safest kind of a Wizard to have,” replied Ozma, promptly.

  “Oz can do some good tricks, humbug or no humbug,” announced Zeb, who was now feeling more at ease.

  “He shall amuse us with his tricks tomorrow,” said the Princess. “I have sent messengers to summon all of Dorothy’s old friends to meet her and give her welcome, and they ought to arrive very soon, now.”

  Indeed, the dinner was no sooner finished than in rushed the Scarecrow, to hug Dorothy in his padded arms and tell her how glad he was to see her again. The Wizard was also most heartily welcomed by the straw man, who was an important personage in the Land of Oz.

  “How are your brains?” enquired the little humbug, as he grasped the soft, stuffed hands of his old friend.

  “Working finely,” answered the Scarecrow. “I’m very certain, Oz, that you gave me the best brains in the world, for I can think with them day and night, when all other brains are fast asleep.”

  “How long did you rule the Emerald City, after I left here?” was the next question.

  “Quite awhile, until I was conquered by a girl named General Jinjur. But Ozma soon conquered her, with the help of Glinda the Good, and after that I went to live with Nick Chopper, the Tin Woodman.”

  Just then a loud cackling was heard outside; and, when a servant threw open the door with a low bow, a yellow hen strutted in. Dorothy sprang forward and caught the fluffy fowl in her arms, uttering at the same time a glad cry.

  “Oh, Billina!” she said; “how fat and sleek you’ve grown.”

  “Why shouldn’t I?” asked the hen, in a sharp, clear voice. “I live on the fat of the land—don’t I, Ozma?”

  “You have everything you wish for,” said the Princess.

  Around Billina’s neck was a string of beautiful pearls, and on her legs were bracelets of emeralds. She nestled herself comfortably in Dorothy’s lap until the kitten gave a snarl of jealous anger and leaped up with a sharp claw fiercely bared to strike Billina a blow. But the little girl gave the angry kitten such a severe cuff that it jumped down again without daring to scratch.

  “How horrid of you, Eureka!” cried Dorothy. “Is that the way to treat my friends?”

  “You have queer friends, seems to me,” replied the kitten, in a surly tone.

  “Seems to me the same way,” said Billina, scornfully, “if that beastly cat is one of them.”

  “Look here!” said Dorothy, sternly. “I won’t have any quarrelling in the Land of Oz, I can tell you! Everybody lives in peace here, and loves everybody else; and unless you two, Billina and Eureka, make up and be friends, I’ll take my Magic Belt and wish you both home again, IMMEJITLY. So, there!”

  They were both much frightened at the threat, and promised meekly to be good. But it was never noticed that they became very warm friend
s, for all of that.

  And now the Tin Woodman arrived, his body most beautifully nickle-plated, so that it shone splendidly in the brilliant light of the room. The Tin Woodman loved Dorothy most tenderly, and welcomed with joy the return of the little old Wizard.

  “Sir,” said he to the latter, “I never can thank you enough for the excellent heart you once gave me. It has made me many friends, I assure you, and it beats as kindly and lovingly today as it every did.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” said the Wizard. “I was afraid it would get moldy in that tin body of yours.”

  “Not at all,” returned Nick Chopper. “It keeps finely, being preserved in my air-tight chest.”

  Zeb was a little shy when first introduced to these queer people; but they were so friendly and sincere that he soon grew to admire them very much, even finding some good qualities in the yellow hen. But he became nervous again when the next visitor was announced.

  “This,” said Princess Ozma, “is my friend Mr. H. M. Woggle-Bug, T. E., who assisted me one time when I was in great distress, and is now the Dean of the Royal College of Athletic Science.”

  “Ah,” said the Wizard; “I’m pleased to meet so distinguished a personage.”

  “H. M.,” said the Woggle-Bug, pompously, “means Highly Magnified; and T. E. means Thoroughly Educated. I am, in reality, a very big bug, and doubtless the most intelligent being in all this broad domain.”

  “How well you disguise it,” said the Wizard. “But I don’t doubt your word in the least.”

  “Nobody doubts it, sir,” replied the Woggle-Bug, and drawing a book from its pocket the strange insect turned its back on the company and sat down in a corner to read.

  Nobody minded this rudeness, which might have seemed more impolite in one less thoroughly educated; so they straightway forgot him and joined in a merry conversation that kept them well amused until bed-time arrived.

  16. Jim, The Cab-Horse

  Jim the Cab-horse found himself in possession of a large room with a green marble floor and carved marble wainscoting, which was so stately in its appearance that it would have awed anyone else. Jim accepted it as a mere detail, and at his command the attendants gave his coat a good rubbing, combed his mane and tail, and washed his hoofs and fetlocks. Then they told him dinner would be served directly and he replied that they could not serve it too quickly to suit his convenience. First they brought him a steaming bowl of soup, which the horse eyed in dismay.

  “Take that stuff away!” he commanded. “Do you take me for a salamander?”

  They obeyed at once, and next served a fine large turbot on a silver platter, with drawn gravy poured over it.

  “Fish!” cried Jim, with a sniff. “Do you take me for a tom-cat? Away with it!”

  The servants were a little discouraged, but soon they brought in a great tray containing two dozen nicely roasted quail on toast.

  “Well, well!” said the horse, now thoroughly provoked. “Do you take me for a weasel? How stupid and ignorant you are, in the Land of Oz, and what dreadful things you feed upon! Is there nothing that is decent to eat in this palace?”

  The trembling servants sent for the Royal Steward, who came in haste and said:

  “What would your Highness like for dinner?”

  “Highness!” repeated Jim, who was unused to such titles.

  “You are at least six feet high, and that is higher than any other animal in this country,” said the Steward.

  “Well, my Highness would like some oats,” declared the horse.

  “Oats? We have no whole oats,” the Steward replied, with much deference. “But there is any quantity of oatmeal, which we often cook for breakfast. Oatmeal is a breakfast dish,” added the Steward, humbly.

  “I’ll make it a dinner dish,” said Jim. “Fetch it on, but don’t cook it, as you value your life.”

  You see, the respect shown the worn-out old cab-horse made him a little arrogant, and he forgot he was a guest, never having been treated otherwise than as a servant since the day he was born, until his arrival in the Land of Oz. But the royal attendants did not heed the animal’s ill temper. They soon mixed a tub of oatmeal with a little water, and Jim ate it with much relish.

  Then the servants heaped a lot of rugs upon the floor and the old horse slept on the softest bed he had ever known in his life.

  In the morning, as soon as it was daylight, he resolved to take a walk and try to find some grass for breakfast; so he ambled calmly through the handsome arch of the doorway, turned the corner of the palace, wherein all seemed asleep, and came face to face with the Sawhorse.

  Jim stopped abruptly, being startled and amazed. The Sawhorse stopped at the same time and stared at the other with its queer protruding eyes, which were mere knots in the log that formed its body. The legs of the Sawhorse were four sticks driving into holes bored in the log; its tail was a small branch that had been left by accident and its mouth a place chopped in one end of the body which projected a little and served as a head. The ends of the wooden legs were shod with plates of solid gold, and the saddle of the Princess Ozma, which was of red leather set with sparkling diamonds, was strapped to the clumsy body.

  Jim’s eyes stuck out as much as those of the Sawhorse, and he stared at the creature with his ears erect and his long head drawn back until it rested against his arched neck.

  In this comical position the two horses circled slowly around each other for a while, each being unable to realize what the singular thing might be which it now beheld for the first time. Then Jim exclaimed:

  “For goodness sake, what sort of a being are you?”

  “I’m a Sawhorse,” replied the other.

  “Oh; I believe I’ve heard of you,” said the cab-horse; “but you are unlike anything that I expected to see.”

  “I do not doubt it,” the Sawhorse observed, with a tone of pride. “I am considered quite unusual.”

  “You are, indeed. But a rickety wooden thing like you has no right to be alive.”

  “I couldn’t help it,” returned the other, rather crestfallen. “Ozma sprinkled me with a magic powder, and I just had to live. I know I’m not much account; but I’m the only horse in all the Land of Oz, so they treat me with great respect.”

  “You, a horse!”

  “Oh, not a real one, of course. There are no real horses here at all. But I’m a splendid imitation of one.”

  Jim gave an indignant neigh.

  “Look at me!” he cried. “Behold a real horse!”

  The wooden animal gave a start, and then examined the other intently.

  “Is it possible that you are a Real Horse?” he murmured.

  “Not only possible, but true,” replied Jim, who was gratified by the impression he had created. “It is proved by my fine points. For example, look at the long hairs on my tail, with which I can whisk away the flies.”

  “The flies never trouble me,” said the Saw-Horse.

  “And notice my great strong teeth, with which I nibble the grass.”

  “It is not necessary for me to eat,” observed the Sawhorse.

  “Also examine my broad chest, which enables me to draw deep, full breaths,” said Jim, proudly.

  “I have no need to breathe,” returned the other.

  “No; you miss many pleasures,” remarked the cab-horse, pityingly. “You do not know the relief of brushing away a fly that has bitten you, nor the delight of eating delicious food, nor the satisfaction of drawing a long breath of fresh, pure air. You may be an imitation of a horse, but you’re a mighty poor one.”

  “Oh, I cannot hope ever to be like you,” sighed the Sawhorse. “But I am glad to meet a last a Real Horse. You are certainly the most beautiful creature I ever beheld.”

  This praise won Jim completely. To be called beautiful was a novelty in his experience. Said he:

 
; “Your chief fault, my friend, is in being made of wood, and that I suppose you cannot help. Real horses, like myself, are made of flesh and blood and bones.”

  “I can see the bones all right,” replied the Sawhorse, “and they are admirable and distinct. Also I can see the flesh. But the blood, I suppose is tucked away inside.”

  “Exactly,” said Jim.

  “What good is it?” asked the Sawhorse.

  Jim did not know, but he would not tell the Sawhorse that.

  “If anything cuts me,” he replied, “the blood runs out to show where I am cut. You, poor thing! cannot even bleed when you are hurt.”

  “But I am never hurt,” said the Sawhorse. “Once in a while I get broken up some, but I am easily repaired and put in good order again. And I never feel a break or a splinter in the least.”

  Jim was almost tempted to envy the wooden horse for being unable to feel pain; but the creature was so absurdly unnatural that he decided he would not change places with it under any circumstances.

  “How did you happen to be shod with gold?” he asked.

  “Princess Ozma did that,” was the reply; “and it saves my legs from wearing out. We’ve had a good many adventures together, Ozma and I, and she likes me.”

  The cab-horse was about to reply when suddenly he gave a start and a neigh of terror and stood trembling like a leaf. For around the corner had come two enormous savage beasts, treading so lightly that they were upon him before he was aware of their presence. Jim was in the act of plunging down the path to escape when the Sawhorse cried out:

  “Stop, my brother! Stop, Real Horse! These are friends, and will do you no harm.”

  Jim hesitated, eyeing the beasts fearfully. One was an enormous Lion with clear, intelligent eyes, a tawney mane bushy and well kept, and a body like yellow plush. The other was a great Tiger with purple stripes around his lithe body, powerful limbs, and eyes that showed through the half closed lids like coals of fire. The huge forms of these monarchs of the forest and jungle were enough to strike terror to the stoutest heart, and it is no wonder Jim was afraid to face them.