WIZARD OF OZ - Complete Series. L. Frank Baum

can’t sleep,” said Jack.

      “I never do,” said the Scarecrow.

      “I do not even know what sleep is,” said the SawHorse.

      “Still, we must have consideration for this poor boy, who is made of flesh and blood and bone, and gets tired,” suggested the Scarecrow, in his usual thoughtful manner. “I remember it was the same way with little Dorothy. We always had to sit through the night while she slept.”

      “I’m sorry,” said Tip, meekly, “but I can’t help it. And I’m dreadfully hungry, too!”

      “Here is a new danger!” remarked Jack, gloomily. “I hope you are not fond of eating pumpkins.”

      “Not unless they’re stewed and made into pies,” answered the boy, laughing. “So have no fears of me, friend Jack.”

      “What a coward that Pumpkinhead is!” said the SawHorse, scornfully.

      “You might be a coward yourself, if you knew you were liable to spoil!” retorted Jack, angrily.

      “There!—there!” interrupted the Scarecrow; “don’t let us quarrel. We all have our weaknesses, dear friends; so we must strive to be considerate of one another. And since this poor boy is hungry and has nothing whatever to eat, let us all remain quiet and allow him to sleep; for it is said that in sleep a mortal may forget even hunger.”

      “Thank you!” exclaimed Tip, gratefully. “Your Majesty is fully as good as you are wise—and that is saying a good deal!”

      He then stretched himself upon the grass and, using the stuffed form of the Scarecrow for a pillow, was presently fast asleep.

11. A Nickel-Plated Emperor

      Tip awoke soon after dawn, but the Scarecrow had already risen and plucked, with his clumsy fingers, a double-handful of ripe berries from some bushes near by. These the boy ate greedily, finding them an ample breakfast, and afterward the little party resumed its Journey.

      After an hour’s ride they reached the summit of a hill from whence they espied the City of the Winkies and noted the tall domes of the Emperor’s palace rising from the clusters of more modest dwellings.

      The Scarecrow became greatly animated at this sight, and exclaimed:

      “How delighted I shall be to see my old friend the Tin Woodman again! I hope that he rules his people more successfully than I have ruled mine!”

      “Is the Tin Woodman the Emperor of the Winkies?” asked the horse.

      “Yes, indeed. They invited him to rule over them soon after the Wicked Witch was destroyed; and as Nick Chopper has the best heart in all the world I am sure he has proved an excellent and able emperor.”

      “I thought that ‘Emperor’ was the title of a person who rules an empire,” said Tip, “and the Country of the Winkies is only a Kingdom.”

      “Don’t mention that to the Tin Woodman!” exclaimed the Scarecrow, earnestly. “You would hurt his feelings terribly. He is a proud man, as he has every reason to be, and it pleases him to be termed Emperor rather than King.”

      “I’m sure it makes no difference to me,” replied the boy.

      The SawHorse now ambled forward at a pace so fast that its riders had hard work to stick upon its back; so there was little further conversation until they drew up beside the palace steps.

      An aged Winkie, dressed in a uniform of silver cloth, came forward to assist them to alight. Said the Scarecrow to his personage:

      “Show us at once to your master, the Emperor.”

      The man looked from one to another of the party in an embarrassed way, and finally answered:

      “I fear I must ask you to wait for a time. The Emperor is not receiving this morning.”

      “How is that?” enquired the Scarecrow, anxiously. “I hope nothing has happened to him.”

      “Oh, no; nothing serious,” returned the man. “But this is his Majesty’s day for being polished; and just now his august presence is thickly smeared with putz-pomade.”

      “Oh, I see!” cried the Scarecrow, greatly reassured. “My friend was ever inclined to be a dandy, and I suppose he is now more proud than ever of his personal appearance.”

      “He is, indeed,” said the man, with a polite bow. “Our mighty Emperor has lately caused himself to be nickel-plated.”

      “Good Gracious!” the Scarecrow exclaimed at hearing this. “If his wit bears the same polish, how sparkling it must be! But show us in—I’m sure the Emperor will receive us, even in his present state”

      “The Emperor’s state is always magnificent,” said the man. “But I will venture to tell him of your arrival, and will receive his commands concerning you.”

      So the party followed the servant into a splendid anteroom, and the SawHorse ambled awkwardly after them, having no knowledge that a horse might be expected to remain outside.

      The travelers were at first somewhat awed by their surroundings, and even the Scarecrow seemed impressed as he examined the rich hangings of silver cloth caught up into knots and fastened with tiny silver axes. Upon a handsome center-table stood a large silver oil-can, richly engraved with scenes from the past adventures of the Tin Woodman, Dorothy, the Cowardly Lion and the Scarecrow: the lines of the engraving being traced upon the silver in yellow gold. On the walls hung several portraits, that of the Scarecrow seeming to be the most prominent and carefully executed, while a the large painting of the famous Wizard of Oz, in act of presenting the Tin Woodman with a heart, covered almost one entire end of the room.

      While the visitors gazed at these things in silent admiration they suddenly heard a loud voice in the next room exclaim:

      “Well! well! well! What a great surprise!”

      And then the door burst open and Nick Chopper rushed into their midst and caught the Scarecrow in a close and loving embrace that creased him into many folds and wrinkles.

      “My dear old friend! My noble comrade!” cried the Tin Woodman, joyfully. “how delighted! I am to meet you once again.”

      And then he released the Scarecrow and held him at arms’ length while he surveyed the beloved, painted features.

      But, alas! the face of the Scarecrow and many portions of his body bore great blotches of putz-pomade; for the Tin Woodman, in his eagerness to welcome his friend, had quite forgotten the condition of his toilet and had rubbed the thick coating of paste from his own body to that of his comrade.

      “Dear me!” said the Scarecrow dolefully. “What a mess I’m in!”

      “Never mind, my friend,” returned the Tin Woodman, “I’ll send you to my Imperial Laundry, and you’ll come out as good as new.”

      “Won’t I be mangled?” asked the Scarecrow.

      “No, indeed!” was the reply. “But tell me, how came your Majesty here? and who are your companions?”

      The Scarecrow, with great politeness, introduced Tip and Jack Pumpkinhead, and the latter personage seemed to interest the Tin Woodman greatly.

      “You are not very substantial, I must admit,” said the Emperor. “but you are certainly unusual, and therefore worthy to become a member of our select society.”

      “I thank your Majesty,” said Jack, humbly.

      “I hope you are enjoying good health?” continued the Woodman.

      “At present, yes;” replied the Pumpkinhead, with a sigh; “but I am in constant terror of the day when I shall spoil.”

      “Nonsense!” said the