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

rest, and then Ojo opened his basket and took out the bundle of charms the Crooked Magician had given him.

      “I am Ojo the Unlucky,” he said, “or we would never have met that dreadful porcupine. But I will see if I can find anything among these charms which will cure your leg.”

      Soon he discovered that one of the charms was labelled: “For flesh wounds,” and this the boy separated from the others. It was only a bit of dried root, taken from some unknown shrub, but the boy rubbed it upon the wound made by the quill and in a few moments the place was healed entirely and the Shaggy Man’s leg was as good as ever.

      “Rub it on the holes in my patches,” suggested Scraps, and Ojo tried it, but without any effect.

      “The charm you need is a needle and thread,” said the Shaggy Man. “But do not worry, my dear; those holes do not look badly, at all.”

      “They’ll let in the air, and I don’t want people to think I’m airy, or that I’ve been stuck up,” said the Patchwork Girl.

      “You were certainly stuck up until we pulled out those quills,” observed Ojo, with a laugh.

      So now they went on again and coming presently to a pond of muddy water they tied a heavy stone to the bundle of quills and sunk it to the bottom of the pond, to avoid carrying it farther.

      13. Scraps and the Scarecrow

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      From here on the country improved and the desert places began to give way to fertile spots; still no houses were yet to be seen near the road. There were some hills, with valleys between them, and on reaching the top of one of these hills the travelers found before them a high wall, running to the right and the left as far as their eyes could reach. Immediately in front of them, where the wall crossed the roadway, stood a gate having stout iron bars that extended from top to bottom. They found, on coming nearer, that this gate was locked with a great padlock, rusty through lack of use.

      “Well,” said Scraps, “I guess we’ll stop here.”

      “It’s a good guess,” replied Ojo. “Our way is barred by this great wall and gate. It looks as if no one had passed through in many years.”

      “Looks are deceiving,” declared the Shaggy Man, laughing at their disappointed faces, “and this barrier is the most deceiving thing in all Oz.”

      “It prevents our going any farther, anyhow,” said Scraps. “There is no one to mind the gate and let people through, and we’ve no key to the padlock.”

      “True,” replied Ojo, going a little nearer to peep through the bars of the gate. “What shall we do, Shaggy Man? If we had wings we might fly over the wall, but we cannot climb it and unless we get to the Emerald City I won’t be able to find the things to restore Unc Nunkie to life.”

      “All very true,” answered the Shaggy Man, quietly; “but I know this gate, having passed through it many times.”

      “How?” they all eagerly inquired.

      “I’ll show you how,” said he. He stood Ojo in the middle of the road and placed Scraps just behind him, with her padded hands on his shoulders. After the Patchwork Girl came the Woozy, who held a part of her skirt in his mouth. Then, last of all, was the Glass Cat, holding fast to the Woozy’s tail with her glass jaws.

      “Now,” said the Shaggy Man, “you must all shut your eyes tight, and keep them shut until I tell you to open them.”

      “I can’t,” objected Scraps. “My eyes are buttons, and they won’t shut.”

      So the Shaggy Man tied his red handkerchief over the Patchwork Girl’s eyes and examined all the others to make sure they had their eyes fast shut and could see nothing.

      “What’s the game, anyhow—blind-man’s-buff?” asked Scraps.

      “Keep quiet!” commanded the Shaggy Man, sternly. “All ready? Then follow me.”

      He took Ojo’s hand and led him forward over the road of yellow bricks, toward the gate. Holding fast to one another they all followed in a row, expecting every minute to bump against the iron bars. The Shaggy Man also had his eyes closed, but marched straight ahead, nevertheless, and after he had taken one hundred steps, by actual count, he stopped and said:

      “Now you may open your eyes.”

      They did so, and to their astonishment found the wall and the gateway far behind them, while in front the former Blue Country of the Munchkins had given way to green fields, with pretty farmhouses scattered among them.

      “That wall,” explained the Shaggy Man, “is what is called an optical illusion. It is quite real while you have your eyes open, but if you are not looking at it the barrier doesn’t exist at all. It’s the same way with many other evils in life; they seem to exist, and yet it’s all seeming and not true. You will notice that the wall—or what we thought was a wall—separates the Munchkin Country from the green country that surrounds the Emerald City, which lies exactly in the center of Oz. There are two roads of yellow bricks through the Munchkin Country, but the one we followed is the best of the two. Dorothy once traveled the other way, and met with more dangers than we did. But all our troubles are over for the present, as another day’s journey will bring us to the great Emerald City.”

      They were delighted to know this, and proceeded with new courage. In a couple of hours they stopped at a farmhouse, where the people were very hospitable and invited them to dinner. The farm folk regarded Scraps with much curiosity but no great astonishment, for they were accustomed to seeing extraordinary people in the Land of Oz.

      The woman of this house got her needle and thread and sewed up the holes made by the porcupine quills in the Patchwork Girl’s body, after which Scraps was assured she looked as beautiful as ever.

      “You ought to have a hat to wear,” remarked the woman, “for that would keep the sun from fading the colors of your face. I have some patches and scraps put away, and if you will wait two or three days I’ll make you a lovely hat that will match the rest of you.”

      “Never mind the hat,” said Scraps, shaking her yarn braids; “it’s a kind offer, but we can’t stop. I can’t see that my colors have faded a particle, as yet; can you?”

      “Not much,” replied the woman. “You are still very gorgeous, in spite of your long journey.”

      The children of the house wanted to keep the Glass Cat to play with, so Bungle was offered a good home if she would remain; but the cat was too much interested in Ojo’s adventures and refused to stop.

      “Children are rough playmates,” she remarked to the Shaggy Man, “and although this home is more pleasant than that of the Crooked Magician I fear I would soon be smashed to pieces by the boys and girls.”

      After they had rested themselves they renewed their journey, finding the road now smooth and pleasant to walk upon and the country growing more beautiful the nearer they drew to the Emerald City.

      By and by Ojo began to walk on the green grass, looking carefully around him.

      “What are you trying to find?” asked Scraps.

      “A six-leaved clover,” said he.

      “Don’t do that!” exclaimed the Shaggy Man, earnestly. “It’s against the Law to pick a six-leaved clover. You must wait until you get Ozma’s consent.”

      “She wouldn’t know it,” declared the boy.

      “Ozma knows many things,” said the Shaggy Man. “In her room is a Magic Picture that shows any scene in the Land of Oz where strangers or travelers happen to be. She may be watching the picture of us even now, and noticing everything that we do.”

      “Does she always watch the Magic Picture?” asked Ojo.