The Collected Works of L. Frank Baum (Illustrated). L. Frank Baum

with Dorothy. For Glinda has a big book in which is recorded every event that takes place anywhere in the world, just the moment that it happens, and so of course the book would tell her about the wireless message.

      And that was the way Dorothy heard that the Historian wanted to speak with her, and there was a Shaggy Man in the Land of Oz who knew how to telegraph a wireless reply. The result was that the Historian begged so hard to be told the latest news of Oz, so that he could write it down for the children to read, that Dorothy asked permission of Ozma and Ozma graciously consented.

      That is why, after two long years of waiting, another Oz story is now presented to the children of America. This would not have been possible had not some clever man invented the “wireless” and an equally clever child suggested the idea of reaching the mysterious Land of Oz by its means.

      L. Frank Baum.

       “OZCOT”

       at Hollywood

       in California

      1. Ojo and Unc Nunkie

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      “Where’s the butter, Unc Nunkie?” asked Ojo.

      Unc looked out of the window and stroked his long beard. Then he turned to the Munchkin boy and shook his head.

      “Isn’t,” said he.

      “Isn’t any butter? That’s too bad, Unc. Where’s the jam then?” inquired Ojo, standing on a stool so he could look through all the shelves of the cupboard. But Unc Nunkie shook his head again.

      “Gone,” he said.

      “No jam, either? And no cake—no jelly—no apples—nothing but bread?”

      “All,” said Unc, again stroking his beard as he gazed from the window.

      The little boy brought the stool and sat beside his uncle, munching the dry bread slowly and seeming in deep thought.

      “Nothing grows in our yard but the bread tree,” he mused, “and there are only two more loaves on that tree; and they’re not ripe yet. Tell me, Unc; why are we so poor?”

      The old Munchkin turned and looked at Ojo. He had kindly eyes, but he hadn’t smiled or laughed in so long that the boy had forgotten that Unc Nunkie could look any other way than solemn. And Unc never spoke any more words than he was obliged to, so his little nephew, who lived alone with him, had learned to understand a great deal from one word.

      “Why are we so poor, Unc?” repeated the boy.

      “Not,” said the old Munchkin.

      “I think we are,” declared Ojo. “What have we got?”

      “House,” said Unc Nunkie.

      “I know; but everyone in the Land of Oz has a place to live. What else, Unc?”

      “Bread.”

      “I’m eating the last loaf that’s ripe. There; I’ve put aside your share, Unc. It’s on the table, so you can eat it when you get hungry. But when that is gone, what shall we eat, Unc?”

      The old man shifted in his chair but merely shook his head.

      “Of course,” said Ojo, who was obliged to talk because his uncle would not, “no one starves in the Land of Oz, either. There is plenty for everyone, you know; only, if it isn’t just where you happen to be, you must go where it is.”

      The aged Munchkin wriggled again and stared at his small nephew as if disturbed by his argument.

      “By tomorrow morning,” the boy went on, “we must go where there is something to eat, or we shall grow very hungry and become very unhappy.”

      “Where?” asked Unc.

      “Where shall we go? I don’t know, I’m sure,” replied Ojo. “But you must know, Unc. You must have traveled, in your time, because you’re so old. I don’t remember it, because ever since I could remember anything we’ve lived right here in this lonesome, round house, with a little garden back of it and the thick woods all around. All I’ve ever seen of the great Land of Oz, Unc dear, is the view of that mountain over at the south, where they say the Hammerheads live—who won’t let anybody go by them—and that mountain at the north, where they say nobody lives.”

      “One,” declared Unc, correcting him.

      “Oh, yes; one family lives there, I’ve heard. That’s the Crooked Magician, who is named Dr. Pipt, and his wife Margolotte. One year you told me about them; I think it took you a whole year, Unc, to say as much as I’ve just said about the Crooked Magician and his wife. They live high up on the mountain, and the good Munchkin Country, where the fruits and flowers grow, is just the other side. It’s funny you and I should live here all alone, in the middle of the forest, isn’t it?”

      “Yes,” said Unc.

      “Then let’s go away and visit the Munchkin Country and its jolly, good-natured people. I’d love to get a sight of something besides woods, Unc Nunkie.”

      “Too little,” said Unc.

      “Why, I’m not so little as I used to be,” answered the boy earnestly. “I think I can walk as far and as fast through the woods as you can, Unc. And now that nothing grows in our back yard that is good to eat, we must go where there is food.”

      Unc Nunkie made no reply for a time. Then he shut down the window and turned his chair to face the room, for the sun was sinking behind the treetops and it was growing cool.

      By and by Ojo lighted the fire and the logs blazed freely in the broad fireplace. The two sat in the firelight a long time—the old, white-bearded Munchkin and the little boy. Both were thinking. When it grew quite dark outside, Ojo said:

      “Eat your bread, Unc, and then we will go to bed.”

      But Unc Nunkie did not eat the bread; neither did he go directly to bed. Long after his little nephew was sound asleep in the corner of the room the old man sat by the fire, thinking.

      2. The Crooked Magician

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      Just at dawn next morning Unc Nunkie laid his hand tenderly on Ojo’s head and awakened him.

      “Come,” he said.

      Ojo dressed. He wore blue silk stockings, blue knee pants with gold buckles, a blue ruffled waist and a jacket of bright blue braided with gold. His shoes were of blue leather and turned up at the toes, which were pointed. His hat had a peaked crown and a flat brim, and around the brim was a row of tiny golden bells that tinkled when he moved. This was the native costume of those who inhabited the Munchkin Country of the Land of Oz, so Unc Nunkie’s dress was much like that of his nephew. Instead of shoes, the old man wore boots with turnover tops and his blue coat had wide cuffs of gold braid.

      The boy noticed that his uncle had not eaten the bread, and supposed the old man had not been hungry. Ojo was hungry, though; so he divided the piece of bread upon the table and ate his half for breakfast, washing it down with fresh, cool water from the brook. Unc put the other piece of bread in his jacket pocket, after which he again said, as he walked out through the doorway: “Come.”

      Ojo was well pleased. He was dreadfully tired of living all alone in the woods and wanted to travel and see people. For a long time he had wished to explore the beautiful Land of Oz in which they lived. When they were outside, Unc simply latched the door and started up the path. No one would disturb their little house, even if anyone came so far into the thick forest while they were gone.

      At the foot of the mountain that separated the Country of the Munchkins from the Country of the Gillikins,