The Essential Works of L. Frank Baum. L. Frank Baum

lives in a stable decorated with pearls and emeralds, at the rear of the royal palace. He is swift as the wind, untiring, and is kind to his friends. All the people of Oz respect the Sawhorse highly, and when I visit Ozma she sometimes allows me to ride him—as I am doing to-day. Now you know what an important personage the Sawhorse is, and if some one—perhaps yourself—will tell me your name, your rank and station, and your history, it will give me pleasure to relate them to the Sawhorse. This will lead to mutual respect and friendship.”

      The Woozy was somewhat abashed by this speech and did not know how to reply. But Ojo said:

      “This square beast is called the Woozy, and he isn’t of much importance except that he has three hairs growing on the tip of his tail.”

      The Scarecrow looked and saw that this was true.

      “But,” said he, in a puzzled way, “what makes those three hairs important? The Shaggy Man has thousands of hairs, but no one has ever accused him of being important.”

      So Ojo related the sad story of Unc Nunkie’s transformation into a marble statue, and told how he had set out to find the things the Crooked Magician wanted, in order to make a charm that would restore his uncle to life. One of the requirements was three hairs from a Woozy’s tail, but not being able to pull out the hairs they had been obliged to take the Woozy with them.

      The Scarecrow looked grave as he listened and he shook his head several times, as if in disapproval.

      “We must see Ozma about this matter,” he said. “That Crooked Magician is breaking the Law by practicing magic without a license, and I’m not sure Ozma will allow him to restore your uncle to life.”

      “Already I have warned the boy of that,” declared the Shaggy Man.

      At this Ojo began to cry. “I want my Unc Nunkie!” he exclaimed. “I know how he can be restored to life, and I’m going to do it—Ozma or no Ozma! What right has this girl Ruler to keep my Unc Nunkie a statue forever?”

      “Don’t worry about that just now,” advised the Scarecrow. “Go on to the Emerald City, and when you reach it have the Shaggy Man take you to see Dorothy. Tell her your story and I’m sure she will help you. Dorothy is Ozma’s best friend, and if you can win her to your side your uncle is pretty safe to live again.” Then he turned to the Woozy and said: “I’m afraid you are not important enough to be introduced to the Sawhorse, after all.”

      “I’m a better beast than he is,” retorted the Woozy, indignantly. “My eyes can flash fire, and his can’t.”

      “Is this true?” inquired the Scarecrow, turning to the Munchkin boy.

      “Yes,” said Ojo, and told how the Woozy had set fire to the fence.

      “Have you any other accomplishments?” asked the Scarecrow.

      “I have a most terrible growl—that is, sometimes,” said the Woozy, as Scraps laughed merrily and the Shaggy Man smiled. But the Patchwork Girl’s laugh made the Scarecrow forget all about the Woozy. He said to her:

      “What an admirable young lady you are, and what jolly good company! We must be better acquainted, for never before have I met a girl with such exquisite coloring or such natural, artless manners.”

      “No wonder they call you the Wise Scarecrow,” replied Scraps.

      “When you arrive at the Emerald City I will see you again,” continued the Scarecrow. “Just now I am going to call upon an old friend—an ordinary young lady named Jinjur—who has promised to repaint my left ear for me. You may have noticed that the paint on my left ear has peeled off and faded, which affects my hearing on that side. Jinjur always fixes me up when I get weather-worn.”

      “When do you expect to return to the Emerald City?” asked the Shaggy Man.

      “I’ll be there this evening, for I’m anxious to have a long talk with Miss Scraps. How is it, Sawhorse; are you equal to a swift run?”

      “Anything that suits you suits me,” returned the wooden horse.

      So the Scarecrow mounted to the jeweled saddle and waved his hat, when the Sawhorse darted away so swiftly that they were out of sight in an instant.

      14. Ojo Breaks the Law

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      “What a queer man,” remarked the Munchkin boy, when the party had resumed its journey.

      “And so nice and polite,” added Scraps, bobbing her head. “I think he is the handsomest man I’ve seen since I came to life.”

      “Handsome is as handsome does,” quoted the Shaggy Man; “but we must admit that no living scarecrow is handsomer. The chief merit of my friend is that he is a great thinker, and in Oz it is considered good policy to follow his advice.”

      “I didn’t notice any brains in his head,” observed the Glass Cat.

      “You can’t see ‘em work, but they’re there, all right,” declared the Shaggy Man. “I hadn’t much confidence in his brains myself, when first I came to Oz, for a humbug Wizard gave them to him; but I was soon convinced that the Scarecrow is really wise; and, unless his brains make him so, such wisdom is unaccountable.”

      “Is the Wizard of Oz a humbug?” asked Ojo.

      “Not now. He was once, but he has reformed and now assists Glinda the Good, who is the Royal Sorceress of Oz and the only one licensed to practice magic or sorcery. Glinda has taught our old Wizard a good many clever things, so he is no longer a humbug.”

      They walked a little while in silence and then Ojo said:

      “If Ozma forbids the Crooked Magician to restore Unc Nunkie to life, what shall I do?”

      The Shaggy Man shook his head.

      “In that case you can’t do anything,” he said. “But don’t be discouraged yet. We will go to Princess Dorothy and tell her your troubles, and then we will let her talk to Ozma. Dorothy has the kindest little heart in the world, and she has been through so many troubles herself that she is sure to sympathize with you.”

      “Is Dorothy the little girl who came here from Kansas?” asked the boy.

      “Yes. In Kansas she was Dorothy Gale. I used to know her there, and she brought me to the Land of Oz. But now Ozma has made her a Princess, and Dorothy’s Aunt Em and Uncle Henry are here, too.” Here the Shaggy Man uttered a long sigh, and then he continued: “It’s a queer country, this Land of Oz; but I like it, nevertheless.”

      “What is queer about it?” asked Scraps.

      “You, for instance,” said he.

      “Did you see no girls as beautiful as I am in your own country?” she inquired.

      “None with the same gorgeous, variegated beauty,” he confessed. “In America a girl stuffed with cotton wouldn’t be alive, nor would anyone think of making a girl out of a patchwork quilt.”

      “What a queer country America must be!” she exclaimed in great surprise. “The Scarecrow, whom you say is wise, told me I am the most beautiful creature he has ever seen.”

      “I know; and perhaps you are—from a scarecrow point of view,” replied the Shaggy Man; but why he smiled as he said it Scraps could not imagine.

      As they drew nearer to the Emerald City the travelers were filled with admiration for the splendid scenery they beheld. Handsome houses stood on both sides of the road and each had a green lawn before it as well as a pretty flower garden.

      “In another hour,” said the Shaggy Man, “we shall come in sight of the walls of the Royal City.”

      He was walking ahead, with Scraps, and behind them came the Woozy and the Glass Cat. Ojo had lagged