The Patchwork Girl of Oz, Lyman Frank Baum [good books for 7th graders TXT] 📗
- Author: Lyman Frank Baum
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No sound came to him through the leaf; all around was intense silence. Ojo wondered if Scraps had stopped screaming, or if the folds of the leaf prevented his hearing her. By and by he thought he heard a whistle, as of some one whistling a tune. Yes; it really must be some one whistling, he decided, for he could follow the strains of a pretty Munchkin melody that Unc Nunkie used to sing to him. The sounds were low and sweet and, although they reached Ojo’s ears very faintly, they were clear and harmonious.
Could the leaf whistle, Ojo wondered? Nearer and nearer came the sounds and then they seemed to be just the other side of the leaf that was hugging him.
Suddenly the whole leaf toppled and fell, carrying the boy with it, and while he sprawled at full length the folds slowly relaxed and set him free. He scrambled quickly to his feet and found that a strange man was standing before him—a man so curious in appearance that the boy stared with round eyes.
He was a big man, with shaggy whiskers, shaggy eyebrows, shaggy hair—but kindly blue eyes that were gentle as those of a cow. On his head was a green velvet hat with a jeweled band, which was all shaggy around the brim. Rich but shaggy laces were at his throat; a coat with shaggy edges was decorated with diamond buttons; the velvet breeches had jeweled buckles at the knees and shags all around the bottoms. On his breast hung a medallion bearing a picture of Princess Dorothy of Oz, and in his hand, as he stood looking at Ojo, was a sharp knife shaped like a dagger.
“Oh!” exclaimed Ojo, greatly astonished at the sight of this stranger; and then he added: “Who has saved me, sir?”
“Can’t you see?” replied the other, with a smile; “I’m the Shaggy Man.”
“Yes; I can see that,” said the boy, nodding. “Was it you who rescued me from the leaf?”
“None other, you may be sure. But take care, or I shall have to rescue you again.”
Ojo gave a jump, for he saw several broad leaves leaning toward him; but the Shaggy Man began to whistle again, and at the sound the leaves all straightened up on their stems and kept still.
The man now took Ojo’s arm and led him up the road, past the last of the great plants, and not till he was safely beyond their reach did he cease his whistling.
“You see, the music charms ‘em,” said he. “Singing or whistling—it doesn’t matter which— makes ‘em behave, and nothing else will. I always whistle as I go by ‘em and so they always let me alone. To-day as I went by, whistling, I saw a leaf curled and knew there must be something inside it. I cut down the leaf with my knife and—out you popped. Lucky I passed by, wasn’t it?”
“You were very kind,” said Ojo, “and I thank you. Will you please rescue my companions, also?”
“What companions?” asked the Shaggy Man.
“The leaves grabbed them all,” said the boy. “There’s a Patchwork Girl and—”
“A what?”
“A girl made of patchwork, you know. She’s alive and her name is Scraps. And there’s a Glass Cat—”
“Glass?” asked the Shaggy Man.
“All glass.”
“And alive?”
“Yes,” said Ojo; “she has pink brains. And there’s a Woozy—”
“What’s a Woozy?” inquired the Shaggy Man.
“Why, I—I—can’t describe it,” answered the boy, greatly perplexed. “But it’s a queer animal with three hairs on the tip of its tail that won’t come out and—”
“What won’t come out?” asked the Shaggy Man; “the tail?”
“The hairs won’t come out. But you’ll see the Woozy, if you’ll please rescue it, and then you’ll know just what it is.”
“Of course,” said the Shaggy Man, nodding his shaggy head. And then he walked back among the plants, still whistling, and found the three leaves which were curled around Ojo’s traveling companions. The first leaf he cut down released Scraps, and on seeing her the Shaggy Man threw back his shaggy head, opened wide his mouth and laughed so shaggily and yet so merrily that Scraps liked him at once. Then he took off his hat and made her a low bow, saying:
“My dear, you’re a wonder. I must introduce you to my friend the Scarecrow.”
When he cut down the second leaf he rescued the Glass Cat, and Bungle was so frightened that she scampered away like a streak and soon had joined Ojo, when she sat beside him panting and trembling. The last plant of all the row had captured the Woozy, and a big bunch in the center of the curled leaf showed plainly where he was. With his sharp knife the Shaggy Man sliced off the stem of the leaf and as it fell and unfolded out trotted the Woozy and escaped beyond the reach of any more of the dangerous plants.
Soon the entire party was gathered on the road of yellow bricks, quite beyond the reach of the beautiful but treacherous plants. The Shaggy Man, staring first at one and then at the other, seemed greatly pleased and interested.
“I’ve seen queer things since I came to the Land of Oz,” said he, “but never anything queerer than this band of adventurers. Let us sit down a while, and have a talk and get acquainted.”
“Haven’t you always lived in the Land of Oz?” asked the Munchkin boy.
“No; I used to live in the big, outside world. But I came here once with Dorothy, and Ozma let me stay.”
“How do you like Oz?” asked Scraps. “Isn’t the country and the climate grand?”
“It’s the finest country in all the world, even if it is a fairyland. and I’m happy every minute I live in it,” said the Shaggy Man. “But tell me something about yourselves.”
So Ojo related the story of his visit to the house of the Crooked Magician, and how he met there the Glass Cat, and how the Patchwork Girl was brought to life and of the terrible accident to Unc Nunkie and Margolotte. Then he told how he had set out to find the five different things which the Magician needed to make a charm that would restore the marble figures to life, one requirement being three hairs from a Woozy’s tail.
“We found the Woozy,” explained the boy, “and he agreed to give us the three hairs; but we couldn’t pull them out. So we had to bring the Woozy along with us.”
“I see,” returned the Shaggy Man, who had listened with interest 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,”
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