The wonderful wizard of Oz by L.Frank Baum (read online)

L.Frank Baum. The wonderful wizard of Oz

Introduction

Folklore, legends, myths and fairy tales have followed childhood

through the ages, for every healthy youngster has a wholesome and

instinctive love for stories fantastic, marvelous and manifestly unreal.

The winged fairies of Grimm and Andersen have brought more happiness to

childish hearts than all other human creations.

Yet the old time fairy tale, having served for generations, may now

be classed as “historical” in the children’s library; for the time has

come for a series of newer “wonder tales” in which the stereotyped genie,

dwarf and fairy are eliminated, together with all the horrible and

blood-curdling incidents devised by their authors to point a fearsome

moral to each tale. Modern education includes morality; therefore the

modern child seeks only entertainment in its wonder tales and gladly

dispenses with all disagreeable incident.

Having this thought in mind, the story of “The Wonderful Wizard of

Oz” was written solely to please children of today. It aspires to being a

modernized fairy tale, in which the wonderment and joy are retained and

the heartaches and nightmares are left out.

L. Frank Baum

Chicago, April, 1900.

THE WONDERFUL WIZARD OF OZ

1. The Cyclone

Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas prairies, with Uncle

Henry, who was a farmer, and Aunt Em, who was the farmer’s wife. Their

house was small, for the lumber to build it had to be carried by wagon

many miles. There were four walls, a floor and a roof, which made one

room; and this room contained a rusty looking cookstove, a cupboard for

the dishes, a table, three or four chairs, and the beds. Uncle Henry and

Aunt Em had a big bed in one corner, and Dorothy a little bed in another

corner. There was no garret at all, and no cellar-except a small hole dug

in the ground, called a cyclone cellar, where the family could go in case

one of those great whirlwinds arose, mighty enough to crush any building

in its path. It was reached by a trap door in the middle of the floor,

from which a ladder led down into the small, dark hole.

When Dorothy stood in the doorway and looked around, she could see

nothing but the great gray prairie on every side. Not a tree nor a house

broke the broad sweep of flat country that reached to the edge of the sky

in all directions. The sun had baked the plowed land into a gray mass,

with little cracks running through it. Even the grass was not green, for

the sun had burned the tops of the long blades until they were the same

gray color to be seen everywhere. Once the house had been painted, but the

sun blistered the paint and the rains washed it away, and now the house

was as dull and gray as everything else.

When Aunt Em came there to live she was a young, pretty wife. The sun

and wind had changed her, too. They had taken the sparkle from her eyes

and left them a sober gray; they had taken the red from her cheeks and

lips, and they were gray also. She was thin and gaunt, and never smiled

now. When Dorothy, who was an orphan, first came to her, Aunt Em had been

so startled by the child’s laughter that she would scream and press her

hand upon her heart whenever Dorothy’s merry voice reached her ears; and

she still looked at the little girl with wonder that she could find

anything to laugh at.

Uncle Henry never laughed. He worked hard from morning till night and

did not know what joy was. He was gray also, from his long beard to his

rough boots, and he looked stern and solemn, and rarely spoke.

It was Toto that made Dorothy laugh, and saved her from growing as

gray as her other surroundings. Toto was not gray; he was a little black

dog, with long silky hair and small black eyes that twinkled merrily on

either side of his funny, wee nose. Toto played all day long, and Dorothy

played with him, and loved him dearly.

Today, however, they were not playing. Uncle Henry sat upon the

doorstep and looked anxiously at the sky, which was even grayer than

usual. Dorothy stood in the door with Toto in her arms, and looked at the

sky too. Aunt Em was washing the dishes.

From the far north they heard a low wail of the wind, and Uncle Henry

and Dorothy could see where the long grass bowed in waves before the

coming storm. There now came a sharp whistling in the air from the south,

and as they turned their eyes that way they saw ripples in the grass

coming from that direction also.

Suddenly Uncle Henry stood up.

“There’s a cyclone coming, Em,” he called to his wife. “I’ll go look

after the stock.” Then he ran toward the sheds where the cows and horses

were kept.

Aunt Em dropped her work and came to the door. One glance told her of

the danger close at hand.

“Quick, Dorothy!” she screamed. “Run for the cellar!”

Toto jumped out of Dorothy’s arms and hid under the bed, and the girl

started to get him. Aunt Em, badly frightened, threw open the trap door in

the floor and climbed down the ladder into the small, dark hole. Dorothy

caught Toto at last and started to follow her aunt. When she was halfway

across the room there came a great shriek from the wind, and the house

shook so hard that she lost her footing and sat down suddenly upon the

floor.

Then a strange thing happened.

The house whirled around two or three times and rose slowly through

the air. Dorothy felt as if she were going up in a balloon.

The north and south winds met where the house stood, and made it the

exact center of the cyclone. In the middle of a cyclone the air is

generally still, but the great pressure of the wind on every side of the

house raised it up higher and higher, until it was at the very top of the

cyclone; and there it remained and was carried miles and miles away as

easily as you could carry a feather.

It was very dark, and the wind howled horribly around her, but

Dorothy found she was riding quite easily. After the first few whirls

around, and one other time when the house tipped badly, she felt as if she

were being rocked gently, like a baby in a cradle.

Toto did not like it. He ran about the room, now here, now there,

barking loudly; but Dorothy sat quite still on the floor and waited to see

what would happen.

Once Toto got too near the open trap door, and fell in; and at first

the little girl thought she had lost him. But soon she saw one of his ears

sticking up through the hole, for the strong pressure of the air was

keeping him up so that he could not fall. She crept to the hole, caught

Toto by the ear, and dragged him into the room again, afterward closing

the trap door so that no more accidents could happen.

Hour after hour passed away, and slowly Dorothy got over her fright;

but she felt quite lonely, and the wind shrieked so loudly all about her

that she nearly became deaf. At first she had wondered if she would be

dashed to pieces when the house fell again; but as the hours passed and

nothing terrible happened, she stopped worrying and resolved to wait

calmly and see what the future would bring. At last she crawled over the

swaying floor to her bed, and lay down upon it; and Toto followed and lay

down beside her.

In spite of the swaying of the house and the wailing of the wind,

Dorothy soon closed her eyes and fell fast asleep.

2. The Council with the Munchkins

She was awakened by a shock, so sudden and severe that if Dorothy had

not been lying on the soft bed she might have been hurt. As it was, the

jar made her catch her breath and wonder what had happened; and Toto put

his cold little nose into her face and whined dismally. Dorothy sat up and

noticed that the house was not moving; nor was it dark, for the bright

sunshine came in at the window, flooding the little room. She sprang from

her bed and with Toto at her heels ran and opened the door.

The little girl gave a cry of amazement and looked about her, her

eyes growing bigger and bigger at the wonderful sights she saw.

The cyclone had set the house down very gently-for a cyclone-in the

midst of a country of marvelous beauty. There were lovely patches of

greensward all about, with stately trees bearing rich and luscious fruits.

Banks of gorgeous flowers were on every hand, and birds with rare and

brilliant plumage sang and fluttered in the trees and bushes. A little way

off was a small brook, rushing and sparkling along between green banks,

and murmuring in a voice very grateful to a little girl who had lived so

long on the dry, gray prairies.

While she stood looking eagerly at the strange and beautiful sights,

she noticed coming toward her a group of the queerest people she had ever

seen. They were not as big as the grown folk she had always been used to;

but neither were they very small. In fact, they seemed about as tall as

Dorothy, who was a well-grown child for her age, although they were, so

far as looks go, many years older.

Three were men and one a woman, and all were oddly dressed. They wore

round hats that rose to a small point a foot above their heads, with

little bells around the brims that tinkled sweetly as they moved. The hats

of the men were blue; the little woman’s hat was white, and she wore a

white gown that hung in pleats from her shoulders. Over it were sprinkled

little stars that glistened in the sun like diamonds. The men were dressed

in blue, of the same shade as their hats, and wore well-polished boots

with a deep roll of blue at the tops. The men, Dorothy thought, were about

as old as Uncle Henry, for two of them had beards. But the little woman

was doubtless much older. Her face was covered with wrinkles, her hair was

nearly white, and she walked rather stiffly.

When these people drew near the house where Dorothy was standing in

the doorway, they paused and whispered among themselves, as if afraid to

come farther. But the little old woman walked up to Dorothy, made a low

bow and said, in a sweet voice:

“You are welcome, most noble Sorceress, to the land of the Munchkins.

We are so grateful to you for having killed the Wicked Witch of the East,

and for setting our people free from bondage.”

Dorothy listened to this speech with wonder. What could the little

woman possibly mean by calling her a sorceress, and saying she had killed

the Wicked Witch of the East? Dorothy was an innocent, harmless little

girl, who had been carried by a cyclone many miles from home; and she had

never killed anything in all her life.

But the little woman evidently expected her to answer; so Dorothy

said, with hesitation, “You are very kind, but there must be some mistake.

I have not killed anything.”

“Your house did, anyway,” replied the little old woman, with a laugh,

“and that is the same thing. See!” she continued, pointing to the corner

of the house. “There are her two feet, still sticking out from under a

block of wood.”

Dorothy looked, and gave a little cry of fright. There, indeed, just

under the corner of the great beam the house rested on, two feet were

sticking out, shod in silver shoes with pointed toes.

“Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” cried Dorothy, clasping her hands together in

dismay. “The house must have fallen on her. Whatever shall we do?”

“There is nothing to be done,” said the little woman calmly.

“But who was she?” asked Dorothy.

“She was the Wicked Witch of the East, as I said,” answered the

little woman. “She has held all the Munchkins in bondage for many years,

making them slave for her night and day. Now they are all set free, and

are grateful to you for the favor.”

“Who are the Munchkins?” inquired Dorothy.

“They are the people who live in this land of the East where the

Wicked Witch ruled.”

“Are you a Munchkin?” asked Dorothy.

“No, but I am their friend, although I live in the land of the North.

When they saw the Witch of the East was dead the Munchkins sent a swift

messenger to me, and I came at once. I am the Witch of the North.”

“Oh, gracious!” cried Dorothy. “Are you a real witch?”

“Yes, indeed,” answered the little woman. “But I am a good witch, and

the people love me. I am not as powerful as the Wicked Witch was who ruled

here, or I should have set the people free myself.”

“But I thought all witches were wicked,” said the girl, who was half

frightened at facing a real witch. “Oh, no, that is a great mistake. There

were only four witches in all the Land of Oz, and two of them, those who

live in the North and the South, are good witches. I know this is true,

for I am one of them myself, and cannot be mistaken. Those who dwelt in

the East and the West were, indeed, wicked witches; but now that you have

killed one of them, there is but one Wicked Witch in all the Land of

Oz-the one who lives in the West.”

“But,” said Dorothy, after a moment’s thought, “Aunt Em has told me

that the witches were all dead-years and years ago.”

“Who is Aunt Em?” inquired the little old woman.

“She is my aunt who lives in Kansas, where I came from.”

The Witch of the North seemed to think for a time, with her head

bowed and her eyes upon the ground. Then she looked up and said, “I do not

know where Kansas is, for I have never heard that country mentioned

before. But tell me, is it a civilized country?”

“Oh, yes,” replied Dorothy.

“Then that accounts for it. In the civilized countries I believe

there are no witches left, nor wizards, nor sorceresses, nor magicians.

But, you see, the Land of Oz has never been civilized, for we are cut off

from all the rest of the world. Therefore we still have witches and

wizards amongst us.”

“Who are the wizards?” asked Dorothy.

“Oz himself is the Great Wizard,” answered the Witch, sinking her

voice to a whisper. “He is more powerful than all the rest of us together.

He lives in the City of Emeralds.”

Dorothy was going to ask another question, but just then the

Munchkins, who had been standing silently by, gave a loud shout and

pointed to the corner of the house where the Wicked Witch had been lying.

“What is it?” asked the little old woman, and looked, and began to

laugh. The feet of the dead Witch had disappeared entirely, and nothing

was left but the silver shoes.

“She was so old,” explained the Witch of the North, that she dried up

quickly in the sun. That is the end of her. But the silver shoes are

yours, and you shall have them to wear.” She reached down and picked up

the shoes, and after shaking the dust out of them handed them to Dorothy.

“The Witch of the East was proud of those silver shoes,” said one of

the Munchkins, “and there is some charm connected with them; but what it

is we never knew.”

Dorothy carried the shoes into the house and placed them on the

table. Then she came out again to the Munchkins and said:

“I am anxious to get back to my aunt and uncle, for I am sure they

will worry about me. Can you help me find my way?”

The Munchkins and the Witch first looked at one another, and then at

Dorothy, and then shook their heads.

“At the East, not far from here,” said one, “there is a great desert,

and none could live to cross it.”

“It is the same at the South,” said another, “for I have been there

and seen it. The South is the country of the Quadlings.”

“I am told,” said the third man, “that it is the same at the West.

And that country, where the Winkies live, is ruled by the Wicked Witch of

the West, who would make you her slave if you passed her way.”

“The North is my home,” said the old lady, “and at its edge is the

same great desert that surrounds this Land of Oz. I’m afraid, my dear, you

will have to live with us.”

Dorothy began to sob at this, for she felt lonely among all these

strange people. Her tears seemed to grieve the kind-hearted Munchkins, for

they immediately took out their handkerchiefs and began to weep also. As

for the little old woman, she took off her cap and balanced the point on

the end of her nose, while she counted “One, two, three” in a solemn

voice. At once the cap changed to a slate, on which was written in big,

white chalk marks:

“LET DOROTHY GO TO THE CITY OF EMERALDS”

The little old woman took the slate from her nose, and having read

the words on it, asked, “Is your name Dorothy, my dear?”

“Yes,” answered the child, looking up and drying her tears.

“Then you must go to the City of Emeralds. Perhaps Oz will help you.”

“Where is this city?” asked Dorothy.

“It is exactly in the center of the country, and is ruled by Oz, the

Great Wizard I told you of.”

“Is he a good man?” inquired the girl anxiously.

“He is a good Wizard. Whether he is a man or not I cannot tell, for I

have never seen him.”

“How can I get there?” asked Dorothy.

“You must walk. It is a long journey, through a country that is

sometimes pleasant and sometimes dark and terrible. However, I will use

all the magic arts I know of to keep you from harm.”

“Won’t you go with me?” pleaded the girl, who had begun to look upon

the little old woman as her only friend.

“No, I cannot do that,” she replied, “but I will give you my kiss,

and no one will dare injure a person who has been kissed by the Witch of

the North.”

She came close to Dorothy and kissed her gently on the forehead.

Where her lips touched the girl they left a round, shining mark, as

Dorothy found out soon after.

“The road to the City of Emeralds is paved with yellow brick,” said

the Witch, “so you cannot miss it. When you get to Oz do not be afraid of

him, but tell your story and ask him to help you. Good-bye, my dear.”

The three Munchkins bowed low to her and wished her a pleasant

journey, after which they walked away through the trees. The Witch gave

Dorothy a friendly little nod, whirled around on her left heel three

times, and straightway disappeared, much to the surprise of little Toto,

who barked after her loudly enough when she had gone, because he had been

afraid even to growl while she stood by.

But Dorothy, knowing her to be a witch, had expected her to disappear

in just that way, and was not surprised in the least.

3. How Dorothy Saved the Scarecrow

When Dorothy was left alone she began to feel hungry. So she went to

the cupboard and cut herself some bread, which she spread with butter. She

gave some to Toto, and taking a pail from the shelf she carried it down to

the little brook and filled it with clear, sparkling water. Toto ran over

to the trees and began to bark at the birds sitting there. Dorothy went to

get him, and saw such delicious fruit hanging from the branches that she

gathered some of it, finding it just what she wanted to help out her

breakfast.

Then she went back to the house, and having helped herself and Toto

to a good drink of the cool, clear water, she set about making ready for

the journey to the City of Emeralds.

Dorothy had only one other dress, but that happened to be clean and

was hanging on a peg beside her bed. It was gingham, with checks of white

and blue; and although the blue was somewhat faded with many washings, it

was still a pretty frock. The girl washed herself carefully, dressed

herself in the clean gingham, and tied her pink sunbonnet on her head. She

took a little basket and filled it with bread from the cupboard, laying a

white cloth over the top. Then she looked down at her feet and noticed how

old and worn her shoes were.

“They surely will never do for a long journey, Toto,” she said. And

Toto looked up into her face with his little black eyes and wagged his

tail to show he knew what she meant.

At that moment Dorothy saw lying on the table the silver shoes that

had belonged to the Witch of the East.

“I wonder if they will fit me,” she said to Toto. “They would be just

the thing to take a long walk in, for they could not wear out.”

She took off her old leather shoes and tried on the silver ones,

which fitted her as well as if they had been made for her.

Finally she picked up her basket.

“Come along, Toto,” she said. “We will go to the Emerald City and ask

the Great Oz how to get back to Kansas again.”

She closed the door, locked it, and put the key carefully in the

pocket of her dress. And so, with Toto trotting along soberly behind her,

she started on her journey.

There were several roads near by, but it did not take her long to

find the one paved with yellow bricks. Within a short time she was walking

briskly toward the Emerald City, her silver shoes tinkling merrily on the

hard, yellow road-bed. The sun shone bright and the birds sang sweetly,

and Dorothy did not feel nearly so bad as you might think a little girl

would who had been suddenly whisked away from her own country and set down

in the midst of a strange land.

She was surprised, as she walked along, to see how pretty the country

was about her. There were neat fences at the sides of the road, painted a

dainty blue color, and beyond them were fields of grain and vegetables in

abundance. Evidently the Munchkins were good farmers and able to raise

large crops. Once in a while she would pass a house, and the people came

out to look at her and bow low as she went by; for everyone knew she had

been the means of destroying the Wicked Witch and setting them free from

bondage. The houses of the Munchkins were odd-looking dwellings, for each

was round, with a big dome for a roof. All were painted blue, for in this

country of the East blue was the favorite color.

Toward evening, when Dorothy was tired with her long walk and began

to wonder where she should pass the night, she came to a house rather

larger than the rest. On the green lawn before it many men and women were

dancing. Five little fiddlers played as loudly as possible, and the people

were laughing and singing, while a big table near by was loaded with

delicious fruits and nuts, pies and cakes, and many other good things to

eat.

The people greeted Dorothy kindly, and invited her to supper and to

pass the night with them; for this was the home of one of the richest

Munchkins in the land, and his friends were gathered with him to celebrate

their freedom from the bondage of the Wicked Witch.

Dorothy ate a hearty supper and was waited upon by the rich Munchkin

himself, whose name was Boq. Then she sat upon a settee and watched the

people dance.

When Boq saw her silver shoes he said, “You must be a great

sorceress.”

“Why?” asked the girl.

“Because you wear silver shoes and have killed the Wicked Witch.

Besides, you have white in your frock, and only witches and sorceresses

wear white.”

“My dress is blue and white checked,” said Dorothy, smoothing out the

wrinkles in it.

“It is kind of you to wear that,” said Boq. “Blue is the color of the

Munchkins, and white is the witch color. So we know you are a friendly

witch.”

Dorothy did not know what to say to this, for all the people seemed

to think her a witch, and she knew very well she was only an ordinary

little girl who had come by the chance of a cyclone into a strange land.

When she had tired watching the dancing, Boq led her into the house,

where he gave her a room with a pretty bed in it. The sheets were made of

blue cloth, and Dorothy slept soundly in them till morning, with Toto

curled up on the blue rug beside her.

She ate a hearty breakfast, and watched a wee Munchkin baby, who

played with Toto and pulled his tail and crowed and laughed in a way that

greatly amused Dorothy. Toto was a fine curiosity to all the people, for

they had never seen a dog before.

“How far is it to the Emerald City?” the girl asked.

“I do not know,” answered Boq gravely, “for I have never been there.

It is better for people to keep away from Oz, unless they have business

with him. But it is a long way to the Emerald City, and it will take you

many days. The country here is rich and pleasant, but you must pass

through rough and dangerous places before you reach the end of your

journey.”

This worried Dorothy a little, but she knew that only the Great Oz

could help her get to Kansas again, so she bravely resolved not to turn

back.

She bade her friends good-bye, and again started along the road of

yellow brick. When she had gone several miles she thought she would stop

to rest, and so climbed to the top of the fence beside the road and sat

down. There was a great cornfield beyond the fence, and not far away she

saw a Scarecrow, placed high on a pole to keep the birds from the ripe

corn.

Dorothy leaned her chin upon her hand and gazed thoughtfully at the

Scarecrow. Its head was a small sack stuffed with straw, with eyes, nose,

and mouth painted on it to represent a face. An old, pointed blue hat,

that had belonged to some Munchkin, was perched on his head, and the rest

of the figure was a blue suit of clothes, worn and faded, which had also

been stuffed with straw. On the feet were some old boots with blue tops,

such as every man wore in this country, and the figure was raised above

the stalks of corn by means of the pole stuck up its back.

While Dorothy was looking earnestly into the queer, painted face of

the Scarecrow, she was surprised to see one of the eyes slowly wink at

her. She thought she must have been mistaken at first, for none of the

scarecrows in Kansas ever wink; but presently the figure nodded its head

to her in a friendly way. Then she climbed down from the fence and walked

up to it, while Toto ran around the pole and barked.

“Good day,” said the Scarecrow, in a rather husky voice.

“Did you speak?” asked the girl, in wonder.

“Certainly,” answered the Scarecrow. “How do you do?”

“I’m pretty well, thank you,” replied Dorothy politely. “How do you

do?”

“I’m not feeling well,” said the Scarecrow, with a smile, “for it is

very tedious being perched up here night and day to scare away crows.”

“Can’t you get down?” asked Dorothy.

“No, for this pole is stuck up my back. If you will please take away

the pole I shall be greatly obliged to you.”

Dorothy reached up both arms and lifted the figure off the pole, for,

being stuffed with straw, it was quite light.

“Thank you very much,” said the Scarecrow, when he had been set down

on the ground. “I feel like a new man.”

Dorothy was puzzled at this, for it sounded queer to hear a stuffed

man speak, and to see him bow and walk along beside her.

“Who are you?” asked the Scarecrow when he had stretched himself and

yawned. “And where are you going?”

“My name is Dorothy,” said the girl, “and I am going to the Emerald

City, to ask the Great Oz to send me back to Kansas.”

“Where is the Emerald City?” he inquired. “And who is Oz?”

“Why, don’t you know?” she returned, in surprise.

“No, indeed. I don’t know anything. You see, I am stuffed, so I have

no brains at all,” he answered sadly.

“Oh,” said Dorothy, “I’m awfully sorry for you.”

“Do you think,” he asked, “if I go to the Emerald City with you, that

Oz would give me some brains?”

“I cannot tell,” she returned, “but you may come with me, if you

like. If Oz will not give you any brains you will be no worse off than you

are now.”

“That is true,” said the Scarecrow. “You see,” he continued

confidentially, “I don’t mind my legs and arms and body being stuffed,

because I cannot get hurt. If anyone treads on my toes or sticks a pin

into me, it doesn’t matter, for I can’t feel it. But I do not want people

to call me a fool, and if my head stays stuffed with straw instead of with

brains, as yours is, how am I ever to know anything?”

“I understand how you feel,” said the little girl, who was truly

sorry for him. “If you will come with me I’ll ask Oz to do all he can for

you.”

“Thank you,” he answered gratefully.

They walked back to the road. Dorothy helped him over the fence, and

they started along the path of yellow brick for the Emerald City.

Toto did not like this addition to the party at first. He smelled

around the stuffed man as if he suspected there might be a nest of rats in

the straw, and he often growled in an unfriendly way at the Scarecrow.

“Don’t mind Toto,” said Dorothy to her new friend. “He never bites.”

“Oh, I’m not afraid,” replied the Scarecrow. “He can’t hurt the

straw. Do let me carry that basket for you. I shall not mind it, for I

can’t get tired. I’ll tell you a secret,” he continued, as he walked

along. “There is only one thing in the world I am afraid of.”

“What is that?” asked Dorothy; “the Munchkin farmer who made you?”

“No,” answered the Scarecrow; “it’s a lighted match.”

4. The Road Through the Forest

After a few hours the road began to be rough, and the walking grew so

difficult that the Scarecrow often stumbled over the yellow bricks, which

were here very uneven. Sometimes, indeed, they were broken or missing

altogether, leaving holes that Toto jumped across and Dorothy walked

around. As for the Scarecrow, having no brains, he walked straight ahead,

and so stepped into the holes and fell at full length on the hard bricks.

It never hurt him, however, and Dorothy would pick him up and set him upon

his feet again, while he joined her in laughing merrily at his own mishap.

The farms were not nearly so well cared for here as they were farther

back. There were fewer houses and fewer fruit trees, and the farther they

went the more dismal and lonesome the country became.

At noon they sat down by the roadside, near a little brook, and

Dorothy opened her basket and got out some bread. She offered a piece to

the Scarecrow, but he refused.

“I am never hungry,” he said, “and it is a lucky thing I am not, for

my mouth is only painted, and if I should cut a hole in it so I could eat,

the straw I am stuffed with would come out, and that would spoil the shape

of my head.”

Dorothy saw at once that this was true, so she only nodded and went

on eating her bread.

“Tell me something about yourself and the country you came from,”

said the Scarecrow, when she had finished her dinner. So she told him all

about Kansas, and how gray everything was there, and how the cyclone had

carried her to this queer Land of Oz.

The Scarecrow listened carefully, and said, “I cannot understand why

you should wish to leave this beautiful country and go back to the dry,

gray place you call Kansas.”

“That is because you have no brains” answered the girl. “No matter

how dreary and gray our homes are, we people of flesh and blood would

rather live there than in any other country, be it ever so beautiful.

There is no place like home.”

The Scarecrow sighed.

“Of course I cannot understand it,” he said. “If your heads were

stuffed with straw, like mine, you would probably all live in the

beautiful places, and then Kansas would have no people at all. It is

fortunate for Kansas that you have brains.”

“Won’t you tell me a story, while we are resting?” asked the child.

The Scarecrow looked at her reproachfully, and answered:

“My life has been so short that I really know nothing whatever. I was

only made day before yesterday. What happened in the world before that

time is all unknown to me. Luckily, when the farmer made my head, one of

the first things he did was to paint my ears, so that I heard what was

going on. There was another Munchkin with him, and the first thing I heard

was the farmer saying, `How do you like those ears?’

“`They aren’t straight,'” answered the other.

“`Never mind,'” said the farmer. “`They are ears just the same,'”

which was true enough.

“`Now I’ll make the eyes,'” said the farmer. So he painted my right

eye, and as soon as it was finished I found myself looking at him and at

everything around me with a great deal of curiosity, for this was my first

glimpse of the world.

“`That’s a rather pretty eye,'” remarked the Munchkin who was

watching the farmer. “`Blue paint is just the color for eyes.’

“`I think I’ll make the other a little bigger,'” said the farmer. And

when the second eye was done I could see much better than before. Then he

made my nose and my mouth. But I did not speak, because at that time I

didn’t know what a mouth was for. I had the fun of watching them make my

body and my arms and legs; and when they fastened on my head, at last, I

felt very proud, forI thought I was just as good a man as anyone.

“`This fellow will scare the crows fast enough,’ said the farmer. `He

looks just like a man.’

“`Why, he is a man,’ said the other, and I quite agreed with him. The

farmer carried me under his arm to the cornfield, and set me up on a tall

stick, where you found me. He and his friend soon after walked away and

left me alone.

“I did not like to be deserted this way. So I tried to walk after

them. But my feet would not touch the ground, and I was forced to stay on

that pole. It was a lonely life to lead, for I had nothing to think of,

having been made such a little while before. Many crows and other birds

flew into the cornfield, but as soon as they saw me they flew away again,

thinking I was a Munchkin; and this pleased me and made me feel that I was

quite an important person. By and by an old crow flew near me, and after

looking at me carefully he perched upon my shoulder and said:

“`I wonder if that farmer thought to fool me in this clumsy manner.

Any crow of sense could see that you are only stuffed with straw.’ Then he

hopped down at my feet and ate all the corn he wanted. The other birds,

seeing he was not harmed by me, came to eat the corn too, so in a short

time there was a great flock of them about me.

“I felt sad at this, for it showed I was not such a good Scarecrow

after all; but the old crow comforted me, saying, `If you only had brains

in your head you would be as good a man as any of them, and a better man

than some of them. Brains are the only things worth having in this world,

no matter whether one is a crow or a man.’

“After the crows had gone I thought this over, and decided I would

try hard to get some brains. By good luck you came along and pulled me off

the stake, and from what you say I am sure the Great Oz will give me

brains as soon as we get to the Emerald City.”

“I hope so,” said Dorothy earnestly, “since you seem anxious to have

them.”

“Oh, yes; I am anxious,” returned the Scarecrow. “It is such an

uncomfortable feeling to know one is a fool.”

“Well,” said the girl, “let us go.” And she handed the basket to the

Scarecrow.

There were no fences at all by the roadside now, and the land was

rough and untilled. Toward evening they came to a great forest, where the

trees grew so big and close together that their branches met over the road

of yellow brick. It was almost dark under the trees, for the branches shut

out the daylight; but the travelers did not stop, and went on into the

forest.

“If this road goes in, it must come out,” said the Scarecrow, “and as

the Emerald City is at the other end of the road, we must go wherever it

leads us.”

“Anyone would know that,” said Dorothy.

“Certainly; that is why I know it,” returned the Scarecrow. “If it

required brains to figure it out, I never should have said it.”

After an hour or so the light faded away, and they found themselves

stumbling along in the darkness. Dorothy could not see at all, but Toto

could, for some dogs see very well in the dark; and the Scarecrow declared

he could see as well as by day. So she took hold of his arm and managed to

get along fairly well.

“If you see any house, or any place where we can pass the night,” she

said, “you must tell me; for it is very uncomfortable walking in the dark.

Soon after the Scarecrow stopped.

“I see a little cottage at the right of us,” he said, “built of logs

and branches. Shall we go there?”

“Yes, indeed,” answered the child. “I am all tired out.”

So the Scarecrow led her through the trees until they reached the

cottage, and Dorothy entered and found a bed of dried leaves in one

corner. She lay down at once, and with Toto beside her soon fell into a

sound sleep. The Scarecrow, who was never tired, stood up in another

corner and waited patiently until morning came.

5. The Rescue of the Tin Woodman

When Dorothy awoke the sun was shining through the trees and Toto had

long been out chasing birds around him and squirrels. She sat up and

looked around her. Scarecrow, still standing patiently in his corner,

waiting for her.

“We must go and search for water,” she said to him.

“Why do you want water?” he asked.

“To wash my face clean after the dust of the road, and to drink, so

the dry bread will not stick in my throat.”

“It must be inconvenient to be made of flesh,” said the Scarecrow

thoughtfully, “for you must sleep, and eat and drink. However, you have

brains, and it is worth a lot of bother to be able to think properly.”

They left the cottage and walked through the trees until they found a

little spring of clear water, where Dorothy drank and bathed and ate her

breakfast. She saw there was not much bread left in the basket, and the

girl was thankful the Scarecrow did not have to eat anything, for there

was scarcely enough for herself and Toto for the day.

When she had finished her meal, and was about to go back to the road

of yellow brick, she was startled to hear a deep groan near by.

“What was that?” she asked timidly.

“I cannot imagine,” replied the Scarecrow; “but we can go and see.”

Just then another groan reached their ears, and the sound seemed to

come from behind them. They turned and walked through the forest a few

steps, when Dorothy discovered something shining in a ray of sunshine that

fell between the trees. She ran to the place and then stopped short, with

a little cry of surprise.

One of the big trees had been partly chopped through, and standing

beside it, with an uplifted axe in his hands, was a man made entirely of

tin. His head and arms and legs were jointed upon his body, but he stood

perfectly motionless, as if he could not stir at all.

Dorothy looked at him in amazement, and so did the Scarecrow, while

Toto barked sharply and made a snap at the tin legs, which hurt his teeth.

“Did you groan?” asked Dorothy.

“Yes,” answered the tin man, “I did. I’ve been groaning for more than

a year, and no one has ever heard me before or come to help me.”

“What can I do for you?” she inquired softly, for she was moved by

the sad voice in which the man spoke.

“Get an oil-can and oil my joints,” he answered. “They are rusted so

badly that I cannot move them at all; if I am well oiled I shall soon be

all right again. You will find an oil-can on a shelf in my cottage.”

Dorothy at once ran back to the cottage and found the oil-can, and

then she returned and asked anxiously, “Where are your joints?”

“Oil my neck, first,” replied the Tin Woodman. So she oiled it, and

as it was quite badly rusted the Scarecrow took hold of the tin head and

moved it gently from side to side until it worked freely, and then the man

could turn it himself.

“Now oil the joints in my arms,” he said. And Dorothy oiled them and

the Scarecrow bent them carefully until they were quite free from rust and

as good as new.

The Tin Woodman gave a sigh of satisfaction and lowered his axe,

which he leaned against the tree.

“This is a great comfort,” he said. “I have been holding that axe in

the air ever since I rusted, and I’m glad to be able to put it down at

last. Now, if you will oil the joints of my legs, I shall be all right

once more.”

So they oiled his legs until he could move them freely; and he

thanked them again and again for his release, for he seemed a very polite

creature, and very grateful.

“I might have stood there always if you had not come along,” he said;

“so you have certainly saved my life. How did you happen to be here?”

“We are on our way to the Emerald City to see the Great Oz,” she

answered, “and we stopped at your cottage to pass the night.”

“Why do you wish to see Oz?” he asked.

“I want him to send me back to Kansas, and the Scarecrow wants him to

put a few brains into his head,” she replied.

The Tin Woodman appeared to think deeply for a moment. Then he said:

“Do you suppose Oz could give me a heart?”

“Why, I guess so,” Dorothy answered. “It would be as easy as to give

the Scarecrow brains.”

“True,” the Tin Woodman returned. “So, if you will allow me to join

your party, I will also go to the Emerald City and ask Oz to help me.”

“Come along,” said the Scarecrow heartily, and Dorothy added that she

would be pleased to have his company. So the Tin Woodman shouldered his

axe and they all passed through the forest until they came to the road

that was paved with yellow brick.

The Tin Woodman had asked Dorothy to put the oil-can in her basket.

“For,” he said, “if I should get caught in the rain, and rust again, I

would need the oil-can badly.”

It was a bit of good luck to have their new comrade join the party,

for soon after they had begun their journey again they came to a place

where the trees and branches grew so thick over the road that the

travelers could not pass. But the Tin Woodman set to work with his axe and

chopped so well that soon he cleared a passage for the entire party.

Dorothy was thinking so earnestly as they walked along that she did

not notice when the Scarecrow stumbled into a hole and rolled over to the

side of the road. Indeed he was obliged to call to her to help him up

again.

“Why didn’t you walk around the hole?” asked the Tin Woodman.

“I don’t know enough,” replied the Scarecrow cheerfully. “My head is

stuffed with straw, you know, and that is why I am going to Oz to ask him

for some brains.”

“Oh, I see,” said the Tin Woodman. “But, after all, brains are not

the best things in the world.”

“Have you any?” inquired the Scarecrow.

“No, my head is quite empty,” answered the Woodman. “But once I had

brains, and a heart also; so, having tried them both, I should much rather

have a heart.”

“And why is that?” asked the Scarecrow.

“I will tell you my story, and then you will know.”

So, while they were walking through the forest, the Tin Woodman told

the following story:

“I was born the son of a woodman who chopped down trees in the forest

and sold the wood for a living. When I grew up, I too became a

woodchopper, and after my father died I took care of my old mother as long

as she lived. Then I made up my mind that instead of living alone I would

marry, so that I might not become lonely.

“There was one of the Munchkin girls who was so beautiful that I soon

grew to love her with all my heart. She, on her part, promised to marry me

as soon as I could earn enough money to build a better house for her; so I

set to work harder than ever. But the girl lived with an old woman who did

not want her to marry anyone, for she was so lazy she wished the girl to

remain with her and do the cooking and the housework. So the old woman

went to the Wicked Witch of the East, and promised her two sheep and a cow

if she would prevent the marriage. Thereupon the Wicked Witch enchanted my

axe, and when I was chopping away at my best one day, for I was anxious to

get the new house and my wife as soon as possible, the axe slipped all at

once and cut off my left leg.

“This at first seemed a great misfortune, for I knew a one-legged man

could not do very well as a wood-chopper. So I went to a tinsmith and had

him make me a new leg out of tin. The leg worked very well, once I was

used to it. But my action angered the Wicked Witch of the East, for she

had promised the old woman I should not marry the pretty Munchkin girl.

When I began chopping again, my axe slipped and cut off my right leg.

Again I went to the tinsmith, and again he made me a leg out of tin. After

this the enchanted axe cut off my arms, one after the other; but, nothing

daunted, I had them replaced with tin ones. The Wicked Witch then made the

axe slip and cut off my head, and at first I thought that was the end of

me. But the tinsmith happened to come along, and he made me a new head out

of tin.

“I thought I had beaten the Wicked Witch then, and I worked harder

than ever; but I little knew how cruel my enemy could be. She thought of a

new way to kill my love for the beautiful Munchkin maiden, and made my axe

slip again, so that it cut right through my body, splitting me into two

halves. Once more the tinsmith came to my help and made me a body of tin,

fastening my tin arms and legs and head to it, by means of joints, so that

I could move around as well as ever. But, alas! I had now no heart, so

that I lost all my love for the Munchkin girl, and did not care whether I

married her or not. I suppose she is still living with the old woman,

waiting for me to come after her.

“My body shone so brightly in the sun that I felt very proud of it

and it did not matter now if my axe slipped, for it could not cut me.

There was only one danger-that my joints would rust; but I kept an oil-can

in my cottage and took care to oil myself whenever I needed it. However,

there came a day when I forgot to do this, and, being caught in a

rainstorm, before I thought of the danger my joints had rusted, and I was

left to stand in the woods until you came to help me. It was a terrible

thing to undergo, but during the year I stood there I had time to think

that the greatest loss I had known was the loss of my heart. While I was

in love I was the happiest man on earth; but no one can love who has not a

heart, and so I am resolved to ask Oz to give me one. If he does, I will

go back to the Munchkin maiden and marry her.”

Both Dorothy and the Scarecrow had been greatly interested in the

story of the Tin Woodman, and now they knew why he was so anxious to get a

new heart.

“All the same,” said the Scarecrow, “I shall ask for brains instead

of a heart; for a fool would not know what to do with a heart if he had

one.”

“I shall take the heart,” returned the Tin Woodman; “for brains do

not make one happy, and happiness is the best thing in the world.”

Dorothy did not say anything, for she was puzzled to know which of

her two friends was right, and she decided if she could only get back to

Kansas and Aunt Em, it did not matter so much whether the Woodman had no

brains and the Scarecrow no heart, or each got what he wanted.

What worried her most was that the bread was nearly gone, and another

meal for herself and Toto would empty the basket. To be sure neither the

Woodman nor the Scarecrow ever ate anything, but she was not made of tin

nor straw, and could not live unless she was fed.

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