The Scarecrow of Oz

CHAPTER 21
Dorothy, Betsy and Ozma

I suppose many of my readers have read descriptions of the beautiful and magnificent Emerald City of Oz, so I need not describe it here, except to state that never has any city in any fairyland ever equalled this one in stately splendor. It lies almost exactly in the center of the Land of Oz, and in the center of the Emerald City rises the wall of glistening emeralds that surrounds the palace of Ozma. The palace is almost a city in itself and is inhabited by many of the Ruler’s especial friends and those who have won her confidence and favor.

As for Ozma herself, there are no words in any dictionary I can find that are fitted to describe this young girl’s beauty of mind and person. Merely to see her is to love her for her charming face and manners; to know her is to love her for her tender sympathy, her generous nature, her truth and honor. Born of a long line of Fairy Queens, Ozma is as nearly perfect as any fairy may be, and she is noted for her wisdom as well as for her other qualities. Her happy subjects adore their girl Ruler and each one considers her a comrade and protector.

At the time of which I write, Ozma’s best friend and most constant companion was a little Kansas girl named Dorothy, a mortal who had come to the Land of Oz in a very curious manner and had been offered a home in Ozma’s palace. Furthermore, Dorothy had been made a Princess of Oz, and was as much at home in the royal palace as was the gentle Ruler. She knew almost every part of the great country and almost all of its numerous inhabitants. Next to Ozma she was loved better than anyone in all Oz, for Dorothy was simple and sweet, seldom became angry and had such a friendly, chummy way that she made friends wherever she wandered. It was she who first brought the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman and the Cowardly Lion to the Emerald City. Dorothy had also introduced to Ozma the Shaggy Man and the Hungry Tiger, as well as Billina the Yellow Hen, Eureka the Pink Kitten, and many other delightful characters and creatures. Coming as she did from our world, Dorothy was much like many other girls we know; so there were times when she was not so wise as she might have been, and other times when she was obstinate and got herself into trouble. But life in a fairyland had taught the little girl to accept all sorts of surprising things as matters-of-course, for while Dorothy was no fairy – but just as mortal as we are – she had seen more wonders than most mortals ever do.

Another little girl from our outside world also lived in Ozma’s palace. This was Betsy Bobbin, whose strange adventures had brought her to the Emerald City, where Ozma had cordially welcomed her. Betsy was a shy little thing and could never get used to the marvels that surrounded her, but she and Dorothy were firm friends and thought themselves very fortunate in being together in this delightful country.

One day Dorothy and Betsy were visiting Ozma in the girl Ruler’s private apartment, and among the things that especially interested them was Ozma’s Magic Picture, set in a handsome frame and hung upon the wall of the room. This picture was a magic one because it constantly changed its scenes and showed events and adventures happening in all parts of the world. Thus it was really a “moving picture” of life, and if the one who stood before it wished to know what any absent person was doing, the picture instantly showed that person, with his or her surroundings.

The two girls were not wishing to see anyone in particular, on this occasion, but merely enjoyed watching the shifting scenes, some of which were exceedingly curious and remarkable. Suddenly Dorothy exclaimed: “Why, there’s Button-Bright!” and this drew Ozma also to look at the picture, for she and Dorothy knew the boy well.

“Who is Button-Bright?” asked Betsy, who had never met him.

“Why, he’s the little boy who is just getting off the back of that strange flying creature,” exclaimed Dorothy. Then she turned to Ozma and asked: “What is that thing, Ozma? A bird? I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“It is an Ork,” answered Ozma, for they were watching the scene where the Ork and the three big birds were first landing their passengers in Jinxland, after the long flight across the desert. “I wonder,” added the girl Ruler, musingly, “why those strangers dare venture into that unfortunate country, which is ruled by a wicked King.”

“That girl, and the one-legged man, seem to be mortals from the outside world,” said Dorothy.

“The man isn’t one-legged,” corrected Betsy; “he has one wooden leg.”

“It’s almost as bad,” declared Dorothy, watching Cap’n Bill stump around.

“They are three mortal adventurers,” said Ozma, “and they seem worthy and honest. But I fear they will be treated badly in Jinxland, and if they meet with any misfortune there it will reflect upon me, for Jinxland is a part of my dominions.”

“Can’t we help them in any way?” inquired Dorothy. “That seems like a nice little girl. I’d be sorry if anything happened to her.”

“Let us watch the picture for awhile,” suggested Ozma, and so they all drew chairs before the Magic Picture and followed the adventures of Trot and Cap’n Bill and Button-Bright. Presently the scene shifted and showed their friend the Scarecrow crossing the mountains into Jinxland, and that somewhat relieved Ozma’s anxiety, for she knew at once that Glinda the Good had sent the Scarecrow to protect the strangers.

The adventures in Jinxland proved very interesting to the three girls in Ozma’s palace, who during the succeeding days spent much of their time in watching the picture. It was like a story to them.

"That girl’s a reg’lar trump!’ exclaimed Dorothy, referring to Trot, and Ozma answered:

“She’s a dear little thing, and I’m sure nothing very bad will happen to her. The old sailor is a fine character, too, for he has never once grumbled over being a grasshopper, as so many would have done.”

When the Scarecrow was so nearly burned up the girls all shivered a little, and they clapped their hands in joy when the flock of Orks came and saved him.

So it was that when all the exciting adventures in Jinxland were over and the four Orks had begun their flight across the mountains to carry the mortals into the Land of Oz, Ozma called the Wizard to her and asked him to prepare a place for the strangers to sleep.

The famous Wizard of Oz was a quaint little man who inhabited the royal palace and attended to all the magical things that Ozma wanted done. He was not as powerful as Glinda, to be sure, but he could do a great many wonderful things. He proved this by placing a house in the uninhabited part of the Quadling Country where the Orks landed Cap’n Bill and Trot and Button-Bright, and fitting it with all the comforts I have described in the last chapter.

Next morning Dorothy said to Ozma:

"Oughtn’t we to go meet the strangers, so we can show them the way to the Emerald City? I’m sure that little girl will feel shy in this beautiful land, and I know if ’twas me I’d like somebody to give me a welcome."

Ozma smiled at her little friend and answered:

“You and Betsy may go to meet them, if you wish, but I can not leave my palace just now, as I am to have a conference with Jack Pumpkinhead and Professor Wogglebug on important matters. You may take the Sawhorse and the Red Wagon, and if you start soon you will be able to meet the Scarecrow and the strangers at Glinda’s palace.”

“Oh, thank you!” cried Dorothy, and went away to tell Betsy and to make preparations for the journey.

CHAPTER 22
The Waterfall

Glinda’s castle was a long way from the mountains, but the Scarecrow began the journey cheerfully, since time was of no great importance in the Land of Oz and he had recently made the trip and knew the way. It never mattered much to Button-Bright where he was or what he was doing; the boy was content in being alive and having good companions to share his wanderings. As for Trot and Cap’n Bill, they now found themselves so comfortable and free from danger, in this fine fairyland, and they were so awed and amazed by the adventures they were encountering, that the journey to Glinda’s castle was more like a pleasure trip than a hardship, so many wonderful things were there to see.

Button-Bright had been in Oz before, but never in this part of it, so the Scarecrow was the only one who knew the paths and could lead them. They had eaten a hearty breakfast, which they found already prepared for them and awaiting them on the table when they arose from their refreshing sleep, so they left the magic house in a contented mood and with hearts lighter and more happy than they had known for many a day. As they marched along through the fields, the sun shone brightly and the breeze was laden with delicious fragrance, for it carried with it the breath of millions of wildflowers.

At noon, when they stopped to rest by the banks of a pretty river, Trot said with a long-drawn breath that was much like a sigh:

“I wish we’d brought with us some of the food that was left from our breakfast, for I’m getting hungry again.”

Scarcely had she spoken when a table rose up before them, as if from the ground itself, and it was loaded with fruits and nuts and cakes and many other good things to eat. The little girl’s eyes opened wide at this display of magic, and Cap’n Bill was not sure that the things were actually there and fit to eat until he had taken them in his hand and tasted them. But the Scarecrow said with a laugh:

“Someone is looking after your welfare, that is certain, and from the looks of this table I suspect my friend the Wizard has taken us in his charge. I’ve known him to do things like this before, and if we are in the Wizard’s care you need not worry about your future.”

“Who’s worrying?” inquired Button-Bright, already at the table and busily eating.

The Scarecrow looked around the place while the others were feasting, and finding many things unfamiliar to him he shook his head and remarked:

“I must have taken the wrong path, back in that last valley, for on my way to Jinxland I remember that I passed around the foot of this river, where there was a great waterfall.”

“Did the river make a bend, after the waterfall?” asked Cap’n Bill.

“No, the river disappeared. Only a pool of whirling water showed what had become of the river; but I suppose it is under ground, somewhere, and will come to the surface again in another part of the country.”

“Well,” suggested Trot, as she finished her luncheon, “as there is no way to cross this river, I s’pose we’ll have to find that waterfall, and go around it.”

“Exactly,” replied the Scarecrow; so they soon renewed their journey, following the river for a long time until the roar of the waterfall sounded in their ears. By and by they came to the waterfall itself, a sheet of silver dropping far, far down into a tiny lake which seemed to have no outlet. From the top of the fall, where they stood, the banks gradually sloped away, so that the descent by land was quite easy, while the river could do nothing but glide over an edge of rock and tumble straight down to the depths below.

“You see,” said the Scarecrow, leaning over the brink, “this is called by our Oz people the Great Waterfall, because it is certainly the highest one in all the land; but I think – Help!”

He had lost his balance and pitched headforemost into the river. They saw a flash of straw and blue clothes, and the painted face looking upward in surprise. The next moment the Scarecrow was swept over the waterfall and plunged into the basin below.

The accident had happened so suddenly that for a moment they were all too horrified to speak or move.

“Quick! We must go to help him or he will be drowned,” Trot exclaimed.

Even while speaking she began to descend the bank to the pool below, and Cap’n Bill followed as swiftly as his wooden leg would let him. Button-Bright came more slowly, calling to the girl:

“He can’t drown, Trot; he’s a Scarecrow.”

But she wasn’t sure a Scarecrow couldn’t drown and never relaxed her speed until she stood on the edge of the pool, with the spray dashing in her face. Cap’n Bill, puffing and panting, had just voice enough to ask, as he reached her side:

“See him, Trot?”

“Not a speck of him. Oh, Cap’n, what do you s’pose has become of him?”

“I s’pose,” replied the sailor, “that he’s in that water, more or less far down, and I’m ’fraid it’ll make his straw pretty soggy. But as fer his bein’ drowned, I agree with Button-Bright that it can’t be done.”

There was small comfort in this assurance and Trot stood for some time searching with her eyes the bubbling water, in the hope that the Scarecrow would finally come to the surface. Presently she heard Button-Bright calling: “Come here, Trot!” and looking around she saw that the boy had crept over the wet rocks to the edge of the waterfall and seemed to be peering behind it. Making her way toward him, she asked:

“What do you see?”

“A cave,” he answered. “Let’s go in. Perhaps we’ll find the Scarecrow there.”

She was a little doubtful of that, but the cave interested her, and so did it Cap’n Bill. There was just space enough at the edge of the sheet of water for them to crowd in behind it, but after that dangerous entrance they found room enough to walk upright and after a time they came to an opening in the w r all of rock. Approaching this opening, they gazed within it and found a series of steps, cut so that they might easily descend into the cavern.

Trot turned to look inquiringly at her companions. The falling water made such din and roaring that her voice could not be heard. Cap’n Bill nodded his head, but before he could enter the cave, Button-Bright was before him, clambering down the steps without a particle of fear. So the others followed the boy.

The first steps were wet with spray, and slippery, but the remainder were quite dry. A rosy light seemed to come from the interior of the cave, and this lighted their way. After the steps there was a short tunnel, high enough for them to walk erect in, and then they reached the cave itself and paused in wonder and admiration.

They stood on the edge of a vast cavern, the walls and domed roof of which were lined with countless rubies, exquisitely cut and flashing sparkling rays from one to another. This caused a radiant light that permitted the entire cavern to be distinctly seen, and the effect was so marvelous that Trot drew in her breath with a sort of a gasp, and stood quite still in wonder.

But the walls and roof of the cavern were merely a setting for a more wonderful scene. In the center was a bubbling cauldron of water, for here the river rose again, splashing and dashing till its spray rose high in the air, where it took the ruby color of the jewels and seemed like a seething mass of flame. And while they gazed into the tumbling, tossing water, the body of the Scarecrow suddenly rose in the center, struggling and kicking, and the next instant wholly disappeared from view.

“My, but he’s wet!” exclaimed Button-Bright; but none of the others heard him.

Trot and Cap’n Bill discovered that a broad ledge – covered, like the walls, with glittering rubies – ran all around the cavern; so they followed this gorgeous path to the rear and found where the water made its final dive underground, before it disappeared entirely. Where it plunged into this dim abyss the river was black and dreary looking, and they stood gazing in awe until just beside them the body of the Scarecrow again popped up from the water.

CHAPTER 23
The Land of Oz

The straw man’s appearance on the water was so sudden that it startled Trot, but Cap’n Bill had the presence of mind to stick his wooden leg out over the water and the Scarecrow made a desperate clutch and grabbed the leg with both hands. He managed to hold on until Trot and Button-Bright knelt down and seized his clothing, but the children would have been powerless to drag the soaked Scarecrow ashore had not Cap’n Bill now assisted them. When they laid him on the ledge of rubies he was the most useless looking Scarecrow you can imagine – his straw sodden and dripping with water, his clothing wet and crumpled, while even the sack upon which his face was painted had become so wrinkled that the old jolly expression of their stuffed friend’s features was entirely gone. But he could still speak, and when Trot bent down her ear she heard him say:

“Get me out of here as soon as you can.”

That seemed a wise thing to do, so Cap’n Bill lifted his head and shoulders, and Trot and Button-Bright each took a leg; among them they partly carried and partly dragged the damp Scarecrow out of the Ruby Cavern, along the tunnel, and up the flight of rock steps. It was somewhat difficult to get him past the edge of the waterfall, but they succeeded, after much effort, and a few minutes later laid their poor comrade on a grassy bank where the sun shone upon him freely and he was beyond the reach of the spray.

Cap’n Bill now knelt down and examined the straw that the Scarecrow was stuffed with.

“I don’t believe it’ll be of much use to him, any more,” said he, “for it’s full of polliwogs an’ fish eggs, an’ the water has took all the crinkle out o’ the straw an’ ruined it. I guess, Trot, that the best thing for us to do is to empty out all his body an’ carry his head an’ clothes along the road till we come to a field or a house where we can get some fresh straw.”

“Yes, Cap’n,” she agreed, “there’s nothing else to be done. But how shall we ever find the road to Glinda’s palace, without the Scarecrow to guide us?”

“That’s easy,” said the Scarecrow, speaking in a rather feeble but distinct voice. “If Cap’n Bill will carry my head on his shoulders, eyes front, I can tell him which way to go.”

So they followed that plan and emptied all the old, wet straw out of the Scarecrow’s body. Then the sailor-man wrung out the clothes and laid them in the sun till they were quite dry. Trot took charge of the head and pressed the wrinkles out of the face as it dried, so that after a while the Scarecrow’s expression became natural again, and as jolly as before.

This work consumed some time, but when it was completed they again started upon their journey, Button-Bright carrying the boots and hat, Trot the bundle of clothes, and Cap’n Bill the head. The Scarecrow, having regained his composure and being now in a good humor, despite his recent mishaps, beguiled their way with stories of the Land of Oz.

It was not until the next morning, however, that they found straw with which to restuff the Scarecrow. That evening they came to the same little house they had slept in before, only now it was magically transferred to a new place. The same bountiful supper as before was found smoking hot upon the table and the same cosy beds were ready for them to sleep in.

They rose early and after breakfast went out of doors, and there, lying just beside the house, was a heap of clean, crisp straw. Ozma had noticed the Scarecrow’s accident in her Magic Picture and had notified the Wizard to provide the straw, for she knew the adventurers were not likely to find straw in the country through which they were now traveling.

They lost no time in stuffing the Scarecrow anew, and he was greatly delighted at being able to walk around again and to assume the leadership of the little party.

“Really,” said Trot, “I think you’re better than you were before, for you are fresh and sweet all through and rustle beautifully when you move.”

“Thank you, my dear,” he replied gratefully. “I always feel like a new man when I’m freshly stuffed. No one likes to get musty, you know, and even good straw may be spoiled by age.”

“It was water that spoiled you, the last time,” remarked Button-Bright, “which proves that too much bathing is as bad as too little. But, after all, Scarecrow, water is not as dangerous for you as fire.”

“All things are good in moderation,” declared the Scarecrow. “But now, let us hurry on, or we shall not reach Glinda’s palace by nightfall.”