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

to the story. “But perhaps I, who am big and strong, can pull those three hairs from the Woozy’s tail.”

      “Try it, if you like,” said the Woozy.

      So the Shaggy Man tried it, but pull as hard as he could he failed to get the hairs out of the Woozy’s tail. So he sat down again and wiped his shaggy face with a shaggy silk handkerchief and said:

      “It doesn’t matter. If you can keep the Woozy until you get the rest of the things you need, you can take the beast and his three hairs to the Crooked Magician and let him find a way to extract ‘em. What are the other things you are to find?”

      “One,” said Ojo, “is a six-leaved clover.”

      “You ought to find that in the fields around the Emerald City,” said the Shaggy Man. “There is a Law against picking six-leaved clovers, but I think I can get Ozma to let you have one.”

      “Thank you,” replied Ojo. “The next thing is the left wing of a yellow butterfly.”

      “For that you must go to the Winkie Country,” the Shaggy Man declared. “I’ve never noticed any butterflies there, but that is the yellow country of Oz and it’s ruled by a good friend of mine, the Tin Woodman.”

      “Oh, I’ve heard of him!” exclaimed Ojo. “He must be a wonderful man.”

      “So he is, and his heart is wonderfully kind. I’m sure the Tin Woodman will do all in his power to help you to save your Unc Nunkie and poor Margolotte.”

      “The next thing I must find,” said the Munchkin boy, “is a gill of water from a dark well.”

      “Indeed! Well, that is more difficult,” said the Shaggy Man, scratching his left ear in a puzzled way. “I’ve never heard of a dark well; have you?”

      “No,” said Ojo.

      “Do you know where one may be found?” inquired the Shaggy Man.

      “I can’t imagine,” said Ojo.

      “Then we must ask the Scarecrow.”

      “The Scarecrow! But surely, sir, a scarecrow can’t know anything.”

      “Most scarecrows don’t, I admit,” answered the Shaggy Man. “But this Scarecrow of whom I speak is very intelligent. He claims to possess the best brains in all Oz.”

      “Better than mine?” asked Scraps.

      “Better than mine?” echoed the Glass Cat. “Mine are pink, and you can see ‘em work.”

      “Well, you can’t see the Scarecrow’s brains work, but they do a lot of clever thinking,” asserted the Shaggy Man. “If anyone knows where a dark well is, it’s my friend the Scarecrow.”

      “Where does he live?” inquired Ojo.

      “He has a splendid castle in the Winkie Country, near to the palace of his friend the Tin Woodman, and he is often to be found in the Emerald City, where he visits Dorothy at the royal palace.”

      “Then we will ask him about the dark well,” said Ojo.

      “But what else does this Crooked Magician want?” asked the Shaggy Man.

      “A drop of oil from a live man’s body.”

      “Oh; but there isn’t such a thing.”

      “That is what I thought,” replied Ojo; “but the Crooked Magician said it wouldn’t be called for by the recipe if it couldn’t be found, and therefore I must search until I find it.”

      “I wish you good luck,” said the Shaggy Man, shaking his head doubtfully; “but I imagine you’ll have a hard job getting a drop of oil from a live man’s body. There’s blood in a body, but no oil.”

      “There’s cotton in mine,” said Scraps, dancing a little jig.

      “I don’t doubt it,” returned the Shaggy Man admiringly. “You’re a regular comforter and as sweet as patchwork can be. All you lack is dignity.”

      “I hate dignity,” cried Scraps, kicking a pebble high in the air and then trying to catch it as it fell. “Half the fools and all the wise folks are dignified, and I’m neither the one nor the other.”

      “She’s just crazy,” explained the Glass Cat.

      The Shaggy Man laughed.

      “She’s delightful, in her way,” he said. “I’m sure Dorothy will be pleased with her, and the Scarecrow will dote on her. Did you say you were traveling toward the Emerald City?”

      “Yes,” replied Ojo. “I thought that the best place to go, at first, because the six-leaved clover may be found there.”

      “I’ll go with you,” said the Shaggy Man, “and show you the way.”

      “Thank you,” exclaimed Ojo. “I hope it won’t put you out any.”

      “No,” said the other, “I wasn’t going anywhere in particular. I’ve been a rover all my life, and although Ozma has given me a suite of beautiful rooms in her palace I still get the wandering fever once in a while and start out to roam the country over. I’ve been away from the Emerald City several weeks, this time, and now that I’ve met you and your friends I’m sure it will interest me to accompany you to the great city of Oz and introduce you to my friends.”

      “That will be very nice,” said the boy, gratefully.

      “I hope your friends are not dignified,” observed Scraps.

      “Some are, and some are not,” he answered; “but I never criticise my friends. If they are really true friends, they may be anything they like, for all of me.”

      “There’s some sense in that,” said Scraps, nodding her queer head in approval. “Come on, and let’s get to the Emerald City as soon as possible.” With this she ran up the path, skipping and dancing, and then turned to await them.

      “It is quite a distance from here to the Emerald City,” remarked the Shaggy Man, “so we shall not get there to-day, nor tomorrow. Therefore let us take the jaunt in an easy manner. I’m an old traveler and have found that I never gain anything by being in a hurry. ‘Take it easy’ is my motto. If you can’t take it easy, take it as easy as you can.”

      After walking some distance over the road of yellow bricks Ojo said he was hungry and would stop to eat some bread and cheese. He offered a portion of the food to the Shaggy Man, who thanked him but refused it.

      “When I start out on my travels,” said he, “I carry along enough square meals to last me several weeks. Think I’ll indulge in one now, as long as we’re stopping anyway.”

      Saying this, he took a bottle from his pocket and shook from it a tablet about the size of one of Ojo’s finger-nails.

      “That,” announced the Shaggy Man, “is a square meal, in condensed form. Invention of the great Professor WoggleBug, of the Royal College of Athletics. It contains soup, fish, roast meat, salad, apple-dumplings, ice cream and chocolate-drops, all boiled down to this small size, so it can be conveniently carried and swallowed when you are hungry and need a square meal.”

      “I’m square,” said the Woozy. “Give me one, please.”

      So the Shaggy Man gave the Woozy a tablet from his bottle and the beast ate it in a twinkling.

      “You have now had a six course dinner,” declared the Shaggy Man.

      “Pshaw!” said the Woozy, ungratefully, “I want to taste something. There’s no fun in that sort of eating.”

      “One should only eat to sustain life,” replied the Shaggy Man, “and that tablet is equal to a peck of other food.”

      “I don’t care for it. I want something I can chew and taste,” grumbled the Woozy.

      “You